The Demon Chronicles
by Glory Nizenea
Summary: Everyone has secrets, especially the Seven Great Demon Lords...
1. Prologue: The Zenith

_**The Demon Chronicles**_

**Disclaimer:** I am absolutely not making profit off of this fanfic—any infringement is not intended and never will be.  
**Rating:** PG-13 / T  
**Genre/s:** Drama, Action, Adventure, Romance, Tragedy, Horror  
**Currently Listening To:** "Everything Burns" by Ben Moody and Anastacia. Look it up on YouTube. :D  
**Description:** Everyone has secrets, even the Demon Lords. Told in eight sessions, we learn the Scourge of the Digi-Underworld's pasts, what brought them together, and the viciousness of their great founder.  
**Author's Note:** A small note about my other story (Digimon 02: PARALLELS) -- I'm still working on it, it's just gone on a small hiatus until I'm done posting up this one (which I've already finished writing, I just need to upload it). :)

So, without further adieu...

_**The Demon Chronicles  
**_**Prologue  
****.Zenith.**

"_GRANDRACMON!"_

Belphemon's fist plunged into the flooring, shattering white-as-snow tile and dirt, shrapnel exploding around him and striking his face. Belphemon swiped away the shrapnel like it was nothing and launched again, this time instead his gargantuan tail whipping forward to wrap around the dark creature's leg. The dark creature dodged the attack with ease and snickered as his fist, not even one-fifth the size of Belphemon's, belted and _crunched_ against the behemoth's knuckles. However, it was not the dark creature who cried out but _Belphemon_, who reeled backwards in a hiss.

Lucemon lunged, orbs of light and dark energy flinging forward, spraying dust and debris and wreckage, wings fluttering and causing white feathers to fall like snow around them. Pain spread up through his leg where he was bleeding, but the Demon Lord of Pride could care less because this was his objective, this was what he'd been waiting for all his life, this was what he WANTED.

Barbamon went to his side, staff readied, _crackling_ with green and black energy. Barbamon would not be left alone; he would get his revenge, too. He hadn't lost her for nothing; refused to lose her for nothing. _Tick-tock,_ was all Barbamon could think about, _Tick-tock, your time's run out. The time has come_. The time for them to get their revenge.

**All of them**.

At Lucemon's other side was Leviamon, who let out a reptilian hiss as his red body slithered forward, listlessly knocking down Roman-fashioned pillars, jaws clamping down on buildings and ripping them to nothing but remnants. The whole world was shuddering beneath them; a world which was nothing compared to their great and horrifying power.

Beelzemon laughed and jumped atop Leviamon's back, white angel feathers falling around him, white feathers tainted red by the spray of blood as his comrades were all shot not by he, but by GranDracmon, but Beelzemon at that moment didn't care. He pointed his gun right at the dark creature's head and, tilting his head to the side, gave a toothy grin. _"Badda _**BING**, _badda _**BOOM**, _baby!"_

_**BOOM!**_

This was their moment of triumph, for they knew where the dark creature had gone (_to this white heaven this white snowy haven this was where he was this was where they would fight him_), where he'd been hiding from them all along (_in the winds of winter oh that snowy abyss_), and they were going to make him

PAY

(_PAY_ the snow falls _**PAY**_)

They were going to make him

BLEED

(_BLEED_ make the snow turn _**RED**_)

For he was

Everything

(EVERYTHING)

they'd been waiting for.

And they would _destroy him._

Together, as brethren and as enemies, united against the dark creature (whispering whispering _GraaanDraaaacmoooon_ whispering whispering whispering), they would truly obliterate the great and mighty Digital Monster which had made them what they were today.

**.The****.****Seven****.****Great****.****Demon****.****Lords.**


	2. Session One: Lucemon

**_The Demon Chronicles_**

**Disclaimer:** I am absolutely not making profit off of this fanfic—any infringement is not intended and never will be.  
**Rating:** PG-13 / T  
**Genre/s:** Drama, Action, Adventure, Romance, Tragedy, Horror  
**Currently Listening To:** "Gollum's Song" by Emiliana Torrini. Look it up on YouTube. :D  
**Description:** Everyone has secrets, even the Demon Lords. Told in eight sessions, we learn the Scourge of the Digi-Underworld's pasts, what brought them together, and the viciousness of their great founder.

_**The Demon Chronicles**_  
**Session One  
****Lucemon**

_**CRACK**_

Bones breaking.

Laughing.

_Laughing._

_**CRACK**_

CRACK

CRAAAAACK

Red dotting his face, his white wings; white wings now tainted red, red, red.

Red dotting the floor – no, not dotting it, red SPLASHING against the floor.

"Hahaha..."

_**CRACK**_

CRACK

"HAHAHAHA..."

_**CRAAAAAAAAAACK**_

_Thud_

He dropped the axe. Heard it clatter against the tiled floor. Heard that baby drop, and felt his knees buckle, felt them hit the floor as he stared ahead of him with the brightest blue eyes. The brightest, most curious eyes.

"Oh... faaaaaah..." he breathed, reaching forward to touch the woman's cheek. She was still. So, so still. "Nee... moooon..."

**.+.**

**BEFORE… BEFORE ALL THE WOE...**

"Oh – fah – nee – mon?"

He said it slowly, putting emphasis on every single syllable.

Yet, Ophanimon didn't turn toward the blond-haired digimon. She was too wrapped up in her own stuff to talk to him – or, for that matter, look at him. It wasn't that she didn't want to. It was that she was so wrapped up in her paperwork that she hadn't even noticed he was there. To her, his voice seemed distant, as if it was not her friend, but another voice, said in her head to distract her. That happened a lot when she was up to her neck in work and her mind wanted to daydream. Dang daydreams!

It wasn't until she felt a cold hand reach up and touch her cheek that she realized the voice was not in her head.

She jumped and glanced down, seeing a rookie digimon with blond hair and icy blue markings embedded into his skin. He had a warm smile, his twelve white wings fluttering around him. Feathers, as soft and pure as freshly fallen snow, fell around the two of them. The two stared at each other for a few seconds before she smiled back.

"Lucemon..." she said gently.

The rookie digimon's grin grew big and he reached forward to take her hand, head tilted to the side.

"Ophanimon!" he said. "Winter's begun! Can we go out and play in the snow?"

Ophanimon hesitated.

Winced a little.

Then, hesitantly, she said, "I'm sorry, but I don't think I can today. The Ninjamon are at it again with the Piratemon, and it's created this whole big mess. Can you forgive me?"

"NO!" Lucemon folded his arms stubbornly. "No, I'm sorry, but I can't!"

"Oh no! Why not?!" Ophanimon asked.

Lucemon grinned big. "'Cause you're a jerk."

"Jerk? Who taught you that word?"

"Takuya..."

"Oh he did, did he? Well, I'll have to talk to him. That wasn't nice of him to teach you that."

"I've learned a lot of things..." Lucemon looked off in the distance toward the window, splayed with white light, dancing across his arctic blue eyes so brilliantly. Snowflakes were slowly falling outside, a few sticking to the windowpane, others continuing to fall to the once-grassy grounds below the castle. His expression – it'd been a long time since Ophanimon had seen that kind of glassy expression on anyone's face, especially Lucemon's.

Her eyes narrowed.

"So..." Her voice grew curious, friendly, yet... serious. Very serious. "What have you learned?"

Lucemon released her hand – such a delicate gesture, so sweet and kind – and moved to the window. He folded his hands behind him, face close to the glass as he examined that snow, so bright, so glistening, so beautiful. He replied, "How come you never told me, Ophanimon?"

Ophanimon's lips thinned.

"How come you never told me that I – _I_ – am the reason for not only one rebellion, but two?" he whispered. One of his hands reached forward and pressed against the glass, forming frost there. "Rebellions which took the lives of thousands – including yours, Seraphimon's, and even Kerpymon's? Even Kouichi's digital form. I... _killed._ Right?"

Ophanimon's eyes widened slightly.

"Who told you this?" she snapped, standing from her desk. "Who said this?!"

"It doesn't matter. All that matters is that I am responsible for many great sins, and had to be stopped by – _humans."_ He released the glass, hand trembling. Though Ophanimon could see nothing but his back, she could see from his reflection against the window that his eyes were wide, and he was staring at that quivering hand as if he hadn't even realized it was shaking until that moment. "Even **I** was killed – killed by humans who raised me to believe that we were family."

No.

No, no, no, no, _no._

She couldn't be hearing this. How did he know? Did he suddenly remember? She needed him, she needed him as her family – she couldn't let it happen again. She wouldn't let it happen again. Lucemon was a part of her now, right?

Sighing, she took a deep breath and moved as close to him as he would allow without shifting away.

"Lucemon..." Ophanimon said in a hurt voice. Lucemon, weakened by that voice, so sweet but pained, sighed and let his shoulders go limp. As soon as he let his guard down, Ophanimon rushed forward and, slightly hesitant, rested a trembling hand on his shoulder. "We... _are_ family. We didn't tell you because we knew it'd hurt you. You're not that _demon_ anymore. You're Lucemon. Destined to be a great friend and ally. _My_ great friend and ally."

The rookie digimon swallowed – his eyes shining as he attempted to comprehend what she'd said. Though her exterior was one of supreme tranquility and unity, inside, she thought she'd die. Alarms were being set off in her mind. Her pulse was racing. Her cheeks were flushed. Her knees were shaking.

Lucemon knew what he'd done in his past life.

Finally, after destroying him twice, they'd gotten a Lucemon who _didn't_ remember the bloodshed – one who _didn't_ remember the high it'd given him. They thought they could raise him to be a strong, true friend, like he had once been. However, at that moment, something within Ophanimon realized that it could never be true.

Lucemon would always betray them.

Always.

"Don't lie to me," Lucemon whispered, his eyes suddenly falling half-lidded.

Ophanimon's muscles tensed.

Lucemon's hand stopped shaking.

His voice so apathetic.

"I can hear it, Ophanimon – your heart. It's beating a mile a minute, isn't it?" Lucemon's lips cracked and twisted, curled into a grin. "And don't think I didn't notice your knees shaking. You're terrified. You're – _afraid_ of me, aren't you? You don't trust me, Ophanimon, do you?"

"Lucemon, I..." She bit her bottom lip. It was hard for her to tell him that no, she _didn't_ trust him, and after everything he did in the past, it'd be hard to gain her trust again – if things were the same as they were before, she'd have no problem. Except she'd been raising Lucemon for almost five years now (Kerpymon a half-year before that, and Seraphimon for a half-year after Kerpymon), and he'd grown. Though still childlike in many ways, Lucemon was kind, sweet, almost like a son to her.

But wasn't it normal for parents to not trust their children fully?

She swallowed, bowed her head, and at least attempted to keep her cool. He was right. He was right, but blowing it way too out of a proportion, and she didn't want someone she cared about getting hurt by her uncertainty.

"I feel that in some ways, you're right – I don't trust you," Ophanimon said gently, crouching down so that she and Lucemon were at eye-level. Suddenly smiling warmly, she tilted her head to the side, reached forward, and... embraced him. But she didn't _just_ embrace him, she held him wholly, not only with her arms, but with her gold-tinted wings, sweeping forward as feathers fell around them. Wings wrapped tight around them, she whispered in his ear, softly, "But... in other ways... Lucemon, you are the one I trust most. Don't forget – you are weaving a _new_ beginning. The path you took two lives ago does not need to be the one you take again, because this time, you have the love of many behind you – the Chosen's, the other Holy Angels', and... mine. Let our love guide you where we could not before."

**(It was that day, right when Ophanimon pulled away from Lucemon, that he had fallen. Fallen not only to his shadow, but also to his heart; a heart that had clung to a woman who felt not desire, but motherly affection.)**

**(Later that week, red would fall onto the freshly fallen snow, such pure white as angel wings, and taint that white deep red.)**

**.+.**

"_They don't WANT you, Lucemon..._

"_They're... AFRAID of you, Lucemon..._

"_Don't you have any _**Pride**?

"_Don't you _care_ that they are hurting you?_

"_I am all you need, Lucemon... I... am _all_ you need..."_

You're right.

You are all I need.

You are right.

You're all I need.

You're right.

You are all I need.

You are right.

You're all I

.Need.

Swelling ambitions, a head filled with manipulations, a heart full of fear and tribulation; a spirit once burning so bright so long ago, now broken and beaten; a soul he would have never needed.

There was a weight on his chest.

The weight of the world.

He had power, he had strength, he had willingness.

He deserved respect, he deserved love, he deserved _trust._

And if those who raised him would not give him those three divine rights, then Goddramon help him, he would _make_ them.

**.+.**

"So these are the mon whom Ophanimon loves."

The words were stated so carelessly, so strangely quiet. The winds were whipping around him, blond hair billowing in the fierce gales which surrounded them atop the mountain peak, golden light gleaming around him as he ascended upon a pedestal made of light, dark, and stone. He was no longer _just_ Lucemon, oh no, his power had risen, risen to such a height in which he felt no longer like just any digimon, but like a god – a _god,_ baby.

Lucemon Chaos Mode.

And he was staring both Kerpymon and Seraphimon in the eye.

The two digimon swallowed, staring wide-eyed at Lucemon.

It was winter then. The snow was falling around them in gentle flakes, fluttering, like small pieces of paper falling, falling, falling. White was all around them, cold and wet, yet they could not – would not – move. They stared at each other for what felt like forever.

The snow continued to fall.

"Lucemon!" Seraphimon said, reaching forward. "Don't do this!"

"Please, you're – our friend," Kerpymon whispered, taking a step toward Lucemon, eyes glinting so sadly. "We can't fight you."

"You already did," Lucemon cooed, tilting his head to the side. Eyes half-lidded, he tittered, taking a step down from his smoking pedestal. As his foot elegantly moved, stairs were formed, and he stepped down each step with a strange, kind of refined grace. "I died, remember?"

Seraphimon and Kerpymon paled.

Lucemon laughed.

_Laughed._

"Sometimes..." he whispered, eyes growing larger. "Sometimes, I hear this voice in my head..."

Haha.

"And it tells me the funniest things..."

Hahaha.

"I want to block it out." His hand was reaching, reaching, reaching, right toward Kerpymon and Seraphimon. His grin widened. His lip lifted to show his toothy grin. "But I can't."

_Hahahaha._

"And when I can't—" His eyes were bulging. His hand landed on Seraphimon's cheek. Seraphimon felt – frozen – frozen forever in time. _"—I won't."_

_**SPLT**_

In was winter.

The snow was white.

Was white until Seraphimon's blood was spilt, turning it to red.

Seraphimon cried out, but he REFUSED to be taken down _just like that_. He grabbed Lucemon's wrist before he could pull away and threw the manlike digimon into that white snow, blood trickling down his face as the mark Lucemon had given him went deep.

"Seraphimon!" Kerpymon called, reaching out to help him, but Seraphimon stopped him with his arm.

"No, Kerpymon, we mustn't indulge him too much," Seraphimon spat. "This delusional _child_ must be dealt with swiftly, before his pride gets the better of him and he decides to face us and die a _third_ time."

_Hahahaha!_

"You... _idiots..._"

Both angel digimon looked up as Lucemon rose from the snow, arms limp at his sides, grinning, the blue markings embedded in his skin seemingly glowing in the white light. His demon wing twitched as his angel wing folded, and in one hand he held an orb of light. In the other, he held an orb of darkness.

Kerpymon lunged forward, but Seraphimon held him back and hissed, "Lucemon! Think about what you're doing!"

"Hold your tongue," Lucemon hissed. "Who are you talking to again? That's right. Lucemon. _Lucemon._ You've known me for centuries and raised me for six years – you should know that when I'm determined to finish something, I—"

The light grew into a massive flame, engulfing not only Lucemon, but the surrounding snow, burning, nothing but water in the red earth now.

Those flames reflected in his eyes.

"—Will—"

The darkness grew into a great shadow, triple the height and width of Lucemon, covering everything from the left side of the demonic angel they'd known as Lucemon.

Consuming half of him.

"—NOT—"

His two fists

"—STOP—!"

punched together.

Shadow and flame – light and dark – exploded around him.

Rushed forward like a tsunami, power crushing against the ground as it flung instantly toward Seraphimon and Kerpymon. Ripping apart white-covered greenery and tearing away boulders from their resting place, the attack rose and plunged toward the two angel digimon, ready to devour everything – _anything_ – it touched.

"Kerpymon!" Seraphimon called, bringing out a staff. He twirled it around his fingers as Kerpymon nodded and held out his hands.

"Let's do this!" Kerpymon said back, white orbs of light manifesting at the center of his palms. That white light then burst forth, followed by the golden radiance flowing from Seraphimon's own staff. The two lights combined and shot toward the tsunami, Seraphimon and Kerpymon determined to not let it get past their barrier of light.

"ARE YOU STUPID?" Lucemon snarled, taking another step down from his pedestal. Staring deep into the eyes of his mentors, he suddenly – carelessly – threw his head back in _laughter._ "You weaklings! YOU are the digimon whom I've been learning from?! So much potential lost!"

The tsunami was overcoming their shield – pressing, pressing, pressing.

_Crk!_

The shield began to splinter.

"K—Kerpymon!" Seraphimon fell on one knee.

Panting, sweat dotting his face, Kerpymon said through clenched teeth, "We must remain strong, Seraphimon! We must not give up! Even if he is like a brother to us, he does not love us anymore!"

"Love?" Lucemon snickered. "What is 'love'? What is faith? What is _hope?_ Hah! How depressing. This sickens me."

Lucemon's wings spread, his head tilted back slightly as he grinned and, with those wings, as white as snow, he flew forward – over the tsunami of light and dark energy, over the golden shield of power – and landed behind Seraphimon and Kerpymon.

Seraphimon's eyes widened.

"KERPYMON!"

_SPLT_

Data twisted and turned, fluttering to the sky above it – going against the tide of snow. Seraphimon's eyes widened as he watched that data rise, his last knee wobbling – wobbling – and finally falling, digging into the freezing cold. Clutching desperately to his staff, flinging everything he had forward to stop that tsunami of energy, Seraphimon bowed his head and bit back tears.

"Kerpymon..." Seraphimon whispered.

Lucemon's eyes narrowed.

His gaze ventured to the castle about a mile away, built upon a high foundation, rising so high it was like a castle in the sky. Clouds rose and fleeted by, snowflakes falling around it, carrying, carrying, carrying.

That gaze traveled to a nearby axe sticking out of an unconscious Woodmon's back.

"Lucemon, you might destroy Kerpymon and myself – even Ophanimon," Seraphimon said, looking up, hands shaking as he held back that great power. "But know this: even after our deaths, even though our blood stains your hands, you are still weaving a new beginning..."

"Shut up," Lucemon hissed, stepping toward the axe in the Woodmon's back.

"—a new beginning filled with love—"

"Shut up!"

Seraphimon lifted one leg.

Put a foot flat on the ground.

"—_Our_ love, mine and Kerpymon's and Ophanimon's and even the Chosen's—"

"I SAID SHUT UP!"

He yanked the axe from the Woodmon's back, causing the creature to explode into data, data that rose and curled and coiled in the air like smoke, the Woodmon's sudden cries still screaming even as his data was all that was left of him.

Marching toward Seraphimon, the angelic digimon lifted his other foot – placed it flat on the ground.

"—And that will never die, though our bodies may!"

The axe rose above Seraphimon's head, but he did not waver, he only stood, chin raised high, light fighting the energy pressing against the barrier.

"Lucemon! You still have many paths to travel! Don't forget – I know you will someday go back to the path you were meant to choose, even if we three Holy Angels die today!"

_**SPLSH**_

That winter, snow was everywhere.

Red, deep red snow.

_**SPLSH**_

(

_He remembered that smile, so kind and so sweet, his embrace so warm as he held up a small in-training digimon. The in-training digimon – a Cupimon – blinked, looking up at him, curious as to who this warm digimon was – could he really be a digimon? Or some amazing creature?_

)

_**  
SPLSH  
**_

(

_The manlike digimon put the Cupimon on his shoulder and began walking toward a distant castle, smiling warmly._

"_Hey there," he said softly. Such a strong voice, deep but not rough, firm but not stern. A happy voice. So strangely happy. "My name is Seraphimon."_

"_...Seraphimon?"_

_The manlike digimon – Seraphimon – grinned and nodded._

"_From now on, I am your brother," Seraphimon told him. "We are a family."_

A

**FAMILY**

)

_**  
CRRRRRRRACK**_

Bones

Bones

Bones

Chest plate CRRRRACKING

Armor falling, falling, falling

White is RED white is RED

And cheeks are tearstained

But whose cheeks oh whose cheeks are tearstained?

(

_Cupimon was crying one time; he'd fallen, hurt his knee. It was the first time he'd seen blood—_

)

Blood

So much

_**BLOOD**_

(

_But it was Kerpymon who reached down and picked him up, carried him all the way to the library where Cupimon had always felt most relaxed, and put a band-aid on his knee._

_When he saw Cupimon crying, he softly laughed and reached forward, wiping away the young one's tears with his index finger. Drying them, he said, "It's just a cut. Cuts are a part of life – we all get cut sometimes, be it by accident or on purpose. Luckily, we also have someone there who will_

"_Always_

"_Pick us up off our feet."_

)

_**SSSSSSSNAP**_

_**PLSH  
**_

(

_Our paths are not predetermined._

_You can still fly away, Lucemon._

_Fly..._

_Fly away..._

)

Data burst around Lucemon and flew up to the sky. Face flecked with red, Lucemon watched it ascend to the aether above, eyes half-lidded and muscles relaxed. He watched, not knowing that it was not blood he felt trickle down his cheeks.

Rising, rising, rising, Lucemon then turned his sights to the castle.

He wondered if she knew.

If Ophanimon knew that her comrades – her loves, be it whatever kind of love that was – were dead.

He killed his brothers.

Killing a few other family members wasn't so bad.


	3. Session Two: Demon

**_The Demon Chronicles_**

**Disclaimer:** I am absolutely not making profit off of this fanfic—any infringement is not intended and never will be.  
**Rating:** PG-13 / T  
**Genre/s:** Drama, Action, Adventure, Romance, Tragedy, Horror  
**Currently Listening To:** "Moonlight Sonata" (slower version) by Ludwig van Beethoven. It's a gorgeous classical piece and fits Demon perfectly. If you have the chance, look it up on YouTube and listen while reading. :)  
**Description:** Everyone has secrets, even the Demon Lords. Told in eight sessions, we learn the Scourge of the Digi-Underworld's pasts, what brought them together, and the viciousness of their great founder.  
**Author's Note:** Well, here is the next installment of _The Demon Chronicles_! I'd just like to take a paragraph to thank everyone who has reviewed my story. So, thank you! :) I appreciate all of your reviews and they really make my day, knowing I was able to be a source of entertainment for however few or many read TDC. Again, thank you and I hope you enjoy all further updates!

Lastly, to stop any confusion from arising, _The Demon Chronicles_ takes place in seven sessions (or technically eight if you include Belphemon's two-parter) explaining the Demon Lords' past. All loose ends will be tied up in the three-part eighth session in which all of them come together and any loose ends left in the eighth session will be tied up in the epilogue. I hope you all enjoy. :)

So, without further adieu...

_**The Demon Chronicles**_  
**Session Two  
****.Demon.**

It all began with a prophecy.

Just one simple prophecy, told by the old wise Jijimon. There was once a tribe of them off the coast of Spiral Lake, but as the years went by, the Jijimon all died off, replaced by younger, more attractive, but... less-fitting digimon. Back then, however, Jijimon were strong and wise, and had foretold of a great despair soon to overwhelm all realms. A great evil bathed in carnage would rise from the shadows of the Dark Area's nadir. This great evil, power riveting within his mighty jaws, would swallow all dimensions, realms, _worlds,_ and, as the old wise Jijimon foretold, his rule would surpass all others.

When the Digital World began to panic at such a woeful prophecy, one of the Jijimon stepped forth to give away another part of the horrifying future – a ray of hope that one, and only one, could defy destiny. One had the power to stop this, and that was the shining power of a mon with hair like bronze, armor of gold, blue, and silver. He would bear a mask of metal and ten gold wings, and have a voice tempting and enchanting. In his hand he would hold the fierce and mighty Excalibur, wielding it with a clench made of iron.

His name would be (Seraphimon)

This legend passed down from generation to generation, and before long, the very last Jijimon told his son of the prophecy. His son grew and digivolved into a great and powerful digimon named AncientWisemon, who gave rise to a magnificent city now known to be the capital of the Digital World, a place harboring a palace more grand and graceful than any before it.

The Celestial Castle.

There could only be one king.

One with the fate of saving the worlds.

Yet, there were two heirs to the throne: two brothers.

One the prodigal and almighty Lord MagnaAngemon, and the other... a mere Patamon.

Who would win their fate?

Who would be the one?

The one to save the dimensions, and dispel the shadows?

**.+.**

Sometimes...

I feel as if I'm dreaming...

Like I'm trapped in a dream more vast and cloudy than the very aether above me. I can't breathe. I can't move. I can't scream.

I can't even blink.

And the only one who can save me from this dream is the one who has the key... the key to the Zenith Gate.

I wonder who holds this key.

Could it be me? Someone I know? My brother – my father – the other Royal Knights?

I don't know.

I don't know anything.

And that scares me! It scares me because I am not used to the unknown! I must find who holds the key – I must find the reason why I am having these dreams – I must find why it is in every dream, at the _end_ of every dream, that I find myself swallowed in flames.

My skin blackens. Curls and peels. Falls off my skin like heated candle wax. My pupils are stark white, and I reach out, reach to the heavens and its gift, that brightly burning sun, but as I hold out my hand, the sun turns red, the clouds darken, _roar_ like a ravenous beast, blue lightning flashes, and it begins to rain.

It rains blood.

My white robes are tainted.

Tainted and turned a deep, rich color of red.

I am Lord MagnaAngemon.

And my dreams _always_ become nightmares.

**.+.**

**(**_My dear, sweet angel_**)**

**(**_Make them pay for what they did to me_**)**

Why?

What did they do to you?

**(**_They took her from me..._

_They took..._

_Someone very, _very_ dear to me..._**)**

Who?

Who took her away from you?

**(**They_ did._

_The Royal Knights_

_Your brother_

_You._

_All who answer to "mon" took her from me._

_And the only way to repent is to..._**)**

(Lord MagnaAngemon listens to the disembodied voice, blond hair falling across his eyes, hands clenching and un-clenching, listening, listening, wondering, soon to be knowing. He needed to know. He needed to know. He needed to

**(**_...Obliterate them all..._**)**

**(**_Make them fly apart like autumn leaves_**)**

**(**_Scattered snowflakes in the wind_**)**

Kill them...?

To please you...?

**(**_I am the reason you exist_**)**

**(**_I am the reason you shall remain existing_**)**

A key...

A key is somewhere...

I must find the key...

The key to the Zenith Gate...

**(**_I am the winds of words  
__The tides of war  
__I am the earth of graves  
__And the air you breathe  
__I have not the key  
__Nor the Zenith Gate  
__But I AM the key  
__I AM the Zenith Gate_**)**

I...

Must find the Zenith Gate...

My destiny lies within the Zenith Gate!

**(**_Then follow what I say and yes, my dear, sweet Lord MagnaAngemon, you shall have the Zenith Gate_**)**

(He stands. Nods. Clenches his fists. Alone and embittered, Lord MagnaAngemon's gaze turns to something in the distance. There, glimmering in the velvet-colored night, was the Celestial Castle. So bright, so beautiful. It was snowing that night.)

(MagnaAngemon could remember the bitter cold; could remember holding out his hand and watching each flake flutter to his palm. He would watch the snow for a few minutes, seeing it sit in his hand. Then, after a while, it would melt. Just water, the amount of a teardrop. Strange how something so beautiful could fade into nothingness in such short of time.)

**.+.**

Flames flickered around the two figures. They saw nothing of each other but their silhouettes, even though they were standing a mere few feet apart. The flame was cracking, popping, embers glowing a deep and malignant orange. A few sparks spat out and fluttered between them, and through that wave of glowing coal, the two figures shot forward.

Clashed.

Arm-against-arm, they stared at each other and watched as sparks cascaded to the floor.

One had the most brilliant blue eyes.

Eyes that reflected the fire, the burning castle, wooden beams creaking and splitting, falling around them, yet neither of them noticed; too concentrated on the other to care. Also reflecting in those baby blues was a manlike creature, with eyes that blazed.

_Blazed._

Though not enflamed, those eyes needed not to _be_ fire to make him _feel_ fire. Those eyes, a steely silver color, _burned._

"Brother... my _brother..._" said the blue-eyed figure, fingers lacing with the other's as they clashed. "Have you forgotten who you are?"

"Who am I? Whose blood runs through my veins?" the silver-eyes replied, leaning close to his brother, the flame's light flashing across his face, revealing a metal mask and hair like bronze. "Tell me, is it your blood? Or is it the blood of the voice in my head? He says he is all things, and so I follow what he says. In order to exist... in order to fulfill... in order to reach my destiny, I must do as he tells me to do."

"You HAVE forgotten who you are!" More sparks. More clashing. A hand swiped through the gray, smoking air, slapping the silver-eyes's cheek. The silver-eyes shuddered and his brother hissed, "You are MagnaAngemon, now SERAPHIMON. You are the son of Alphamon – my brother!"

"Blood..."

A chuckle.

A gruff, dark chuckle.

The silver-eyes – Lord MagnaAngemon; no, _Seraphimon_ – took a step back.

"What does blood have to do with anything...?"

The flames grew higher.

The castle walls grew weaker.

"'Brother, oh, brother!', _please._ Blood has nothing to do with it. I am trying to create a _new age_ – no, a _new world_! Blood must be shed, brother, and you are no exception. Someday, even I will be no exception."

The blue-eyes – Angemon – snarled, reaching forward to grab Seraphimon by his metal neck and howl, "You're wrong! No blood need be shed at all to create a new world! Seraphimon, have you lost your compassion? Your grace? Your love?! Have you lost your hope for this world?!"

"Compassion... grace... love..." Seraphimon tested the words to see how they fit. "...Hope..."

When he said nothing else, Angemon, his grip weakening, said, "Do you... hate me?"

"Hate..." Again, testing. Seraphimon's eyes, though shielded by his metal mask, narrowed. "I don't know the meaning of this word, 'hate'. All I know is that I have my destiny, and that is to create a new world. I must follow as he says – his revenge. Angemon, my brother..."

Another chuckle. His shoulders shook with each draw of air, with each exhale his fingers grew sharper (_like claws, ready to gash, ready to rip, ready to tear_), and every breath he took his body rippled with power and hissing energy.

His hand rose.

Fell.

Knocked Angemon back, forcing him to fall, to fall (beneath Seraphimon). Angemon winced and looked up, trying to see past the metal mask over Seraphimon's face, but to no avail. He had no eyes to look into. No heart. No compassion. No grace. No love. No hope.

Giving his brother a cracked, scarecrow grin, Seraphimon said, "This world will be wrought with his wrath, carried out through my own hands."

"SERAPHIMON!" Angemon stood, teeth clenched, tears falling from his eyes. However, he wasted not a single second to twirl his golden staff between his fingers, point it to the dark sky, and say, "HOLY SHOT!"

A light burst forth, a light brighter than even the red radiance of the surrounding flame; a flame that roared as it fought against the light, as if trying to consume that light just as it had most of the palace. But the beam of light would not be swallowed by flame. The beam of light hit with impending force (_crrrrrk_ sounded his bones, _crk_**pop**), striking Seraphimon right in his chest where his heart should have been—

(_but his heart had long ago been carved out by the voice in his head, so long ago, when the voice had told him he could have it all, have it all if he just listened, he could have it, have _THE ZENITH GATE_, and unknowing just who it was telling him his fate, he was strung along_)

Now that chest was a hollow shell. With a resounding crack, the burst of light shot through, lancing past armor and skin and bone, slashing blood and splattering it across the flames.

Then there was silence.

The roof above them caved in long ago – they could see the stars glimmer above them. Silver jewels in the sky, those stars. A Jijimon once said that the sun was a gift from the heavens, to light up the dark of night. He said that the stars of night were the moon's gift, to compliment the sun. They were a family, those gods of the skies.

So, Angemon and Seraphimon wondered – could the gods of the skies see them at that moment, the snow falling from the aether above, swallowed by the hot flames before they could touch the ground? Was snow the sky's tears, frozen by the emotions of their hearts?

That was what AncientWisemon had said long ago, during the founding of the Celestial Castle.

Snow were the tears of the sky gods like sun and moon and stars, frozen by the cold emotions of the creatures below.

Were the skies crying for Seraphimon? For Angemon? For all the deaths and bloodshed that would follow this night?

Seraphimon fell to his knees. Blood spilled from his lips, his back arched over as the weight on his chest grew and he laid one of his palms flat on the tiled floor. His eyes were wide, skin ghostly pale, pupils just small dots at the center of his eyes.

"...How—?" Seraphimon hoarsely said, wiping the blood from his mouth with his sleeve as he looked up at the angelic creature. Something inside his chest lurched. He coughed and covered his mouth before more blood could spill, eyes widening. "A mere Angemon—?"

Angemon stared at his brother. His hands were trembling – _trembling_. He'd just shot the most powerful digimon in this world with a beam of light, brought him to his knees, and Angemon was shaking – _uncontrollably_. But... that feeling in Seraphimon's chest... oh, that feeling told him it wasn't out of fear that Angemon was shaking.

The angelic creature took a step forward.

Stood before Seraphimon.

His eyes narrowed.

"Angemon..."

(Seraphimon could see it – his dreams. His skin blackened and peeled.)

He was frozen.

(The black clouds roared ferociously.)

Something changed at that moment. The atmosphere, though they were surrounded by fire, grew... colder.

(Blue lightning flashed.)

Now that Seraphimon was down, now that Seraphimon could hardly move, Angemon's disposition grew – _colder._

(He reaches out as his skin melts from bone.)

And Seraphimon, watching his brother stand at full-height with flames bursting behind him, violently curling and coiling in the wind as their smoke ascended to the skies, knew at once what had changed.

(It begins to rain.)

Angemon was not smiling. Was not frowning.

(Rain not water, but blood.)

Seraphimon could not breathe,

(Blood which tainted _not his_ white robes...)

could not move,

(...but the white robes of someone else...)

could not scream.

(And that is why Seraphimon's dreams had always turned to nightmares, because...)

He couldn't even blink.

(Seraphimon's dreams ended there. Forever.)

"You are the one..." Seraphimon whispered, fists clenching. If there was any part of his heart left, it was racing. Racing, and soon to stop. His lip trembled. "The one..."

Trembled and curled.

"...Who will open the Zenith Gate..."

(Then there was darkness until a light guided him to another

a boy

a boy with bronze hair and blue eyes

a boy with a warm smile and voice, clothes green

a heart of silver

a boy who would help him defy fate

and save the dimensions)

The flames crackled between them; crackled and _popped._

"Always the first, brother... The first born, the first to train, the first to digivolve and take father's favorite," Angemon, just a mere Angemon, stood before a kneeling Seraphimon, raised his staff, and said, "But this time, _you_ are the one who bows before _me."_

"Angemon..." Seraphimon grinned. Again, he softly chuckled. "I... understand now... the voice's intent..."

Angemon's eyes narrowed. "I have dreams, too, brother..."

Seraphimon's palms fell flat against the tiled floor, shoulders shaking as he laughed, blood cascading below him, pooling, but he didn't notice. No, he was too busy bellowing, too busy realizing what was happening to really care. "_You_ are the one... This whole time... It was... _You."_

"And guess what?" Angemon cooed. He leaned forward, lips brushing Seraphimon's ear, one of his palms resting flat on the bloodied wound across Seraphimon's chest.

The staff

Fell

Angemon's lips

Curled

Into a grin

* * *

"_You aren't_ in_ my dreams, _**brother**_."_

* * *

Staff hit armor. Seemed to strike with more impact than any Angemon could possibly conceive. More blood. More bruises. More cries of realization and destiny and fate. That night, combined with the power of a creature they could not possibly understand, an Angemon

(a champion)

had defeated the almighty, _prodigal_ Seraphimon

(a mega)

And gone from nothing

(to everything)

But...

his heart was darker than they knew.

After all, Seraphimon was attacking the castle.

Angemon saved them all.

Right?

**.+.**

As Seraphimon's data began to ascend, starting from the digimon's feet and slowly rising to his knees, Angemon crouched at his brother's side. As Seraphimon's dull gaze turned to his younger brother, the mega digimon gave him a sad smile.

"What, no tears?" Seraphimon whispered. "We are truly fools, you and I."

"Wrath... you said you would carry out his wrath before..." Angemon said distantly. Reaching forward to brush the back of his hand against Seraphimon's cheek, Angemon said, "I like that. Wrath. It sounds... _powerful."_

"How could I not see it before? This manipulation?" His legs disappeared. Next came his stomach, his hands, his arms, his torso. "Clearly... this creature haunting us... he doesn't care."

"No." Angemon stood, (looking down at Seraphimon) as his neck turned to white glowing data. Tilting his head to the side, the staff in Angemon's palm faded, and he said, "GranDracmon _never_ cares."

And, like that, Angemon turned from Seraphimon and headed for the creaking, enflamed palace doors. As he turned, Seraphimon could see it: a twist of his little brother's lips, a curl, a grin. A bone-chilling, all-knowing grin.

"This is our new world..." Seraphimon whispered, closing his eyes as the rest of him began to ascend, fluttering in the ash-blown wind. "...Our beautiful new world, _my brother."_

**.+.**

A deal was made.  
Less than a year later, Angemon would become  
A MagnaAngemon  
And MagnaAngemon would become  
A Seraphimon.  
And Seraphimon would become

.**Demon**.

GranDracmon's dear, sweet demon.


	4. Session Three: Barbamon

_The Demon Chronicles_

**Disclaimer:** I am absolutely not making profit off of this fanfic—any infringement is not intended and never will be.  
**Rating:** PG-13 / T  
**Genre/s:** Drama, Adventure, Romance, Tragedy, Horror  
**Currently Listening To:** "Sacrifice" by Christophe Beck. Check it out on YouTube! :)  
**Description: **Everyone has secrets, even the Demon Lords. Told in eight sessions, we learn the Scourge of the Digi-Underworld's pasts, what brought them together, and the viciousness of their great founder.

_**The Demon Chronicles  
**_**Session Three  
****.Barbamon.**

"BARBAMON!"

**Crunch**

Blood splattered across her face.

Her eyes, a pale blue that shimmered in the bright autumn sun, widened.

_**Crrrrunch**_

"Bar... bamon..."

_I love you._

Another wave of blood, this time striking her chest, her arms, her thighs.

_Oh God, Simone, you'll never know how much I love you._

_**CRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRUNCH**_

The red beast was falling, one of his leathery hands reaching toward something in the distance, yet touching nothing but air. His spidery claws brushed the old man's sleeve, but, with a sneer, he moved his sleeve away.

_It's a word which gets thrown around so much..._

_This "love"..._

_Nobody really thinks about it, do they? What it truly means to love someone?_

The creature hit the ground with an echoing thud, leathery flesh beginning to fade into data as a pitchfork hit head-up into the sand, spraying golden-brown grains across both the girl and the digimon. They watched, stunned, as the digimon began to stand once more, however, with one final kick—

**CRUNCH**

—The Boogeymon was hasta la vista, baby.

_I don't need to think about it._

The girl bit back tears forming behind her eyes. Carefully, she reached forward, and, as if about to touch the flame of a lit candle, she hesitantly wrapped her arms around the old man's hand. He was silently watching the Boogeymon dissolve, his eyes narrowed. He felt her hands, her warmth, and knew it.

_I love you._

He, Barbamon, was in love with a human girl.

How disgusting.

**.+.**

"Barbamon... you're so greedy..."

She said it a more cute way than anything. She had hair such a light blonde he could have called it platinum, and with the way it shined against the sunlight, he would have even dared call it silver. She had small hands despite being eighteen; hands that reached up in the air toward something the old mon was holding above her head. He couldn't help teasing her like this. Not only were her hands small, but she was so impeccably short.

High above her head he held an ice-cream cone, snorting as she even tried jumping up to try to get it. He closed his eyes and remained silent – at least until he felt a tug on his white beard pulling him down. He blinked as he lost his footing and began toppling over.

"G—gyuh!"

She snatched the ice-cream cone out of his hand and blew a raspberry, letting him fall face-first into the ground. Once body smacked snow, she blinked and tilted her head to the side.

"Huh? Barbamon, what are you doing down there?"

He glared at her and sat back up, dusting off his dark cloak. "Are you happy now that you got your stupid ice-cream? It's winter! Why would you want ice-cream anyway?!"

She didn't respond. Instead, she squatted in the snow next to him and – smiled warmly. Smiled sadly. Narrowed her eyes slightly and reached forward to take one of his hands as the other held the ice-cream cone. Giving him that sweet, innocent smile, she said, "Thank you, Barbamon... Even after all these years traveling with me, you still care enough to get me my favorite food."

The two stared at each for a while before Barbamon huffed and looked away from her. He raised a hand to ruffle her hair, stubbornly saying, "Who said I got it for you?"

_She is the only one I care about._

_The only one in this world I would give anything to – give anything for._

_I used to say that the world was my instrument – that it was always just for me, _mine,_ and I would take what I needed. No one_

_No one_

_Could stand in my way._

"Ah, Barbamon, don't be like that!" she said with a big dopey grin, waving the ice-cream cone in front of his face. "Hey, I'll even let you have a bite or two!"

He brought his gaze back to her. Again, they were in a lock of stares, like a contest yet not, unable to draw their eyes away. Then, eyes narrowed just slightly, Barbamon reached his hands forward. He reddened slightly and could feel the blood rise to his cheeks, could see the white breath puffing out of her mouth as she breathed. He watched her lips for a few seconds before cupping his hands on her hands around the cone, then brought the ice-cream to his lips. He took a bite, watching as those lips widened into a smile, and as soon as her lips curled, he slowly drew away, releasing her hands.

"See? Was that so hard?" she teased.

"Yes, it was," he muttered, folding his arms. Before she could reply, however, he quickly leaned over and, with just one bite, _ate the whole thing,_ except the cone itself. Immediately, she blinked and looked down at her cone, then back to Barbamon, then back to the cone, then to Barbamon.

Then, in tears, she wailed, "Barbamoooooon!"

_Nothing could stand in my way until I met Simone._

_My... partner._

_She was my Simone._

_Mine._

_Until she became someone else's._

**.+.**

It began that day many years ago, when the snow melted away and Simone was sitting atop Barbamon's shoulder, walking across the woods. The woods were old and creaky, constantly snapping and cracking as animals and humans and creatures of all kinds wandered into its midst. Despite Barbamon's calm and tranquil attitude, Simone was up-tight. Her muscles were tense, her eyes narrowed, a flush to her cheeks and sweat dotting her brow.

They'd heard of another Destined in the wood. A Destined who'd died trying to save his digimon partner from being swallowed by a Cyclonemon, who was banished from its fiery volcano by its kinsmen after it killed their favorite son. Not only had the Destined lost his life, but the life of his digimon partner, who indeed was swallowed by those massive jaws. In the process, the Destined's spirit still lived in the woods, attaching itself to any poor soul who thought they could get away with traveling through just any "plain" woods. Simone heard this tale at a pub just a few miles away by Bernie the Bearmon bartender, who didn't quite believe the tale himself, though he always took pleasure in freaking out those gullible enough.

Barbamon, however, knew it was a ridiculous tale. Ghosts did not exist – except for Bakemon and Phantomon, and any other ghost-type digimon, but they weren't necessarily _real_ ghost. That was just their digimon type. Their data. They were _programmed_ to act like ghosts. In truth, ghosts were born real and flesh and bone and blood and breath, and it wasn't until they died that they became wandering spirits. It was those Barbamon didn't believe in.

The dead could not rise.

Would never rise.

It was impossible.

Little did he know how much his belief would waver later down the line, or perhaps it would not so much as waver, but it would shake, and he would _wish_ that his belief would waver. But of course, the dead really couldn't rise – the one he wanted to breathe again would not breathe again. Ever again.

However, now, he was firm on his beliefs about life, and not caring one way or the other. It wasn't until a creature – breath blackened with decay and smelling of rot, each step a tremble on the earth, each foot not a foot really but a gargantuan black apparatus that looked more like a spider leg than a foot – sifted through the wood, breaking branches and tearing sticks, rustling bushes and—

_Sssssnap_

"Barbamon, what was that?" Simone breathed, clutching tightly to her partner's head.

He sighed and batted away her arm, keeping her steady on his shoulder. Though he wasn't much taller than she at her current age, he was still strong enough to lift her with hardly any strain and carry her for miles on end when her feet got tired. Sure, at that moment, she wasn't tired _at all_, but she didn't want to set a foot on that soil! She _knew_ something – probably a tentacle or snake tail or _whatever_ – would surely reach forward, wrap around her ankle, and drag her into the dark dank depths of the underground to feast on her bones. It was enough to make her shudder, whatever was in the woods making her feel paranoid.

"It was nothing," Barbamon huffed when she relinquished her grip. "Besides, even if it was, you have me."

"Reh—right..." she whispered, biting her bottom lip in thought.

Again, the old mon sighed and reached one of his long thin hands forward to ruffle her hair. The gentle gesture seemed to give her some confidence as she gave him a sad yet scared smile, and he replied, "I'll protect you, Simone. With my life, I would protect you."

"Barbamon..." Simone's smile grew warm and she again reached forward to hug him around the head. However, this time, he didn't bat her away. Instead, his muscles relaxed, he stopped walking, and he... swallowed. She closed her eyes and leaned her forehead against his temple, giving a small laugh as she replied, "Thank you."

"Simone..."

It came out hoarse, not a whisper but not a scream, not even his normal monotone voice. Instead, it was just that – hoarse. Using the same hand he'd used to ruffle her hair, he brushed her cheek with the back of his hand, his own eyes widening.

He didn't realize what he was doing.

She didn't, either.

She only blinked and looked at the old hand, curious – curious because he'd never shown her that kind of affection before.

Then something hit him like a ton of bricks.

He flung into the thick trunk of an oak tree, spine crunching against the wood as he let go of Simone. She flung back, her own back smacking into the ground as she grimaced and attempted to stand, but instead there was a sickening _snap_ and she ended up crying out as she grabbed her shoulder.

"Ugh..." she hissed between clenched teeth. Then, as if realizing what just happened, she looked back up at the oak tree and her eyes widened. "Barbamon!"

He fell to his knees.

His eyes wide.

What was this all over his hands...? Red...? Red and reeking of copper.

One of his old hands, quivering, reached up to touch the spidery leg that had pierced him through his chest, splattering blood across the newly-grown leaves. Barbamon stared at that thin leg lanced through him, eyes wide and pupils small. He then began to cough and hack, reaching up to cover his mouth as the taste of silver touched his tongue and he spat out a clot of blood.

"Die..." a creature whispered. Simone, panting and holding her broken arm, shuddered. Barbamon hadn't caught the voice at first; no, at first, he thought it'd been the winds who called to him as his data wavered. But then he knew it – knew it because he could see shapes begin to manifest in the shadows. "You will... _diiiiie_..."

_Barbamon_ couldn't die. He was not _made_ to die. He was made to conquer. To rise up. To have_. _To _take._

Shaking, Barbamon looked up at who pierced him and saw there hidden in the woods' shadows a great and horrible creature with eight spidery legs, a body so massive its thin legs shouldn't have been able to hold it up; a creature with a long snout and thin pupils at the center of its menacing yellow and red eyes.

Armageddemon.

The dark creature's bloodstained teeth were clenched together, eyes bulging as it stared at him. Only him. Hungrily... so, _so_ hungrily.

"_Musssst... _**eat**."

"Yeah—" That wasn't Barbamon's voice. Wasn't Simone's. This voice was masculine, young, strong. The voice of a boy named Alex Richardson. "Like THAT'S going to happen!"

With a loud _**kssssh**_, Armageddemon – with no struggle – was torn right down the middle. Green blood splashed countless trees and puddles, and Armageddemon howled in absolute agony. Everything within the digimon collapsed all at once – its spidery limb was wrenched out of Barbamon's chest, its teeth faded into data, its bulging eyes closed tightly shut. Swiftly, with a guttural howl, Armageddemon became nothing but air.

Just... _air._

Barbamon fell face-forward into the ground.

"Bah—Barbamon!"

_Simone...?_

_Simone, is that you...?_

_It's so dark in here..._

_Tell me... just tell me one thing..._

_Will you never leave me alone in this darkness?_

**.+.**

When Barbamon awoke, he found out it was Alex Richardson and his digimon partner Slayerdramon who'd saved him, ripping Armageddemon in half with hardly any trouble. It was an easy task – Barbamon himself could have done it no problem, if the dang thing hadn't taken him by surprise.

However, what Barbamon didn't find out until much later on was that his Simone had become Alex's. Impressed with his skills and his confidence, in him she found something she, herself, didn't have. Where he was weak, she was strong – and where she was strong, he was weak. When Barbamon did find out, he was... less than pleased.

But it was okay, right?

He couldn't have been with Simone, anyway.

He was a _digimon,_ and she was... human. A disgusting, fleshy human, so weak and vile. He was better off without one, especially the love of one, and if she chose to be with another human, then so be it. He couldn't be with her anyway.

That would only be wishful thinking.

But... as Simone herself admitted... Barbamon _was_ quite a greedy digimon...

**.+.**

"BARBAMON. I am 25 years old. We're not in the Digital World anymore! You don't need to protect me! I don't _need_ your protection! I don't need you to come with us on our honeymoon, okay? Alex and I will be just FINE – MORE than fine – thank you very much!"

"Simone..."

"I understand that you're worried, but hey, we're even leaving Slayerdramon behind!"

"_Simone!_"

"**Barbamon**."

Her tone was firm.

Barbamon had never heard her voice so firm before.

**(**_She's asking for you to leave her forever._**)**

**(**_Wouldn't you like to leave her? There are so many other..._**)**

**(  
**_Fishes  
_**)**

**(**_Amirite?_**)**

No.

Simone wasn't just any fish.

Simone was the only one he'd ever gone out of his way to do something for.

The only one he'd ever been willing to protect above his own life.

He wanted to be the ONLY one putting his life before hers, because that meant he was special to her. He wanted to be the only one in her life. He wanted her. He wanted _all _of her. Most of all, what he _didn't_ want, was Alex.

Alex and Simone.

Simone and _Alex._

Disgusting.

But he would clean the disgusting.

**(**_So then, Barbamon..._**)**

**(**_What are you going to do about it?_**)**

**.+.**

_Mine..._

This is what he was going to do

Blood

**crunch**

Lots of blood.

This is what he _wanted_ to do.

_Mine..._

So, _so_ much clean, beautiful, red blood.

**crrrrrrunch**

**MINE**

_**CRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRUNCH**_

Specks of red. Spattering her face, her shoulders, her middle. Splashing his brown eyes and his dark robes, his hands and their long, sharp fingernails. No, not fingernails, more like claws.

Claws that struck forward.

Dug deep.

Real deep.

She gasped, fingertips raking the air, then, weakly, trembling, lowering. Those same fingertips brushed across his old face, his cheek, and the tears falling down those cheeks. She whispered something inaudible; something that was just a small murmur in his ear as she suddenly clasped his shoulders. Her fingers digging into cloth, he sunk those claws in deep, his face in the crook of her neck, her forehead against his upper-arm.

"Bar... bamon..." she said, so gently, so quietly, in such a raw voice. "I knew... you would do this someday..."

"Guh..." Barbamon felt his throat tighten as his free hand wrapped around her shoulder, his other hand wrenching out from her gut. She threw her head back in a silent scream, a scream he echoed as they both fell to their knees. Teeth clenched, he rested his forehead against hers. "I can't lose you to him... I won't lose you to him..."

Simone stared at him blankly, panting, holding him by the shoulders. Then, with the curl of a lip, she smiled sadly. Something in her mind must have flickered like a television screen because he did not get the reaction he was expecting – no comeback, no anger, no tears. The only thing that came from her was the warmth of her hand against his cheek (_even dying she was warm how could she be warm so warm_), and the kind light of her pale blue eyes. Perhaps her brain had stopped working right due to the intense pain, or maybe she knew she was close to death and just didn't care anymore, or maybe it was that she truly did not care that it was her best friend and partner who had been the one to kill her, but she softly chuckled.

"Remember that one time you brought me ice-cream in the middle of winter? Snow was all around us... it was so cold, so white, but neither of us cared..." she said, her breathing growing quicker, more shallow. "Do you... remember? I was so shocked... and so glad... to have a friend like you, Barbamon..."

He tensed.

Stared deeply into those brilliant eyes of hers.

Eyes so benign, yet... sad. So terribly sad.

_I love you._

"You said you would always protect me..." she whispered, looking down to her stomach where Barbamon's claws had once been. Then, releasing his cheek to place a hand where he'd hurt her, she once again chuckled. "You _promised_ me..."

_Oh God, you'll never know how much I love you._

What had he done? What was he doing?

**(**_This is what you did_**)**

**(**_This is what you wanted to do_**)**

No... he didn't want this... He... DIDN'T WANT THIS.

"Barbamon..." Suddenly, all at once, she collapsed. Her body, stiff, fell against him, fingers raking skin as he held her to him. She breathed in deep, her whole body quivering as she suddenly cried out in pain, unbelieving, unknowing. Then, finally, she _screamed._ Screamed at the top of her lungs, rasping and reverberating, no tears shed but the emotion in her voice enough—

Breathe in.

_I love you, Simone!_

"I LOVE YOU, BARBAMON!"

Breathe out.

Wait... Wait, wait, wait. Simone. Simone, repeat that. Tell him something different. Tell him you didn't love him! Tell him!

"I... love you..." Simone whispered.

She stopped convulsing.

Stopped shaking.

Stopped panting.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

"You were my friend... my best friend... and when my father left me for dead in the Digital World, I met you..." she lied limply against him, face buried in his shoulder, her body beginning to fail her. "You... _became_ my father..."

_What have I done...?_

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

"Simone... I take it back..." Barbamon clenched his teeth. "Don't die. Please don't die."

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

"Oh God, I take it back!"

**(**_It's too late, Barbamon..._**)**

**(**_It's very... _too late.**)**

Breathe in...

Breathe out...

* * *

(Silence)

* * *

Hear that?

Just...

* * *

(Silence)

* * *

Death.

_Death._

_**Death.**_

_**Death.**_

_I don't want this, Death._

_Take it back..._

_Please... take it back..._

**(**_You can't take it back...  
__You can never take it back._**)**


	5. Session Four: Leviamon

**_The Demon Chronicles_**

"_She is the one that I adore  
creed of my silent suffocation  
Break this bittersweet spell on me  
lost in the arms of destiny"_

—Apocalyptica, The Rasmus, and HIM

**Disclaimer:** I am absolutely not making profit off of this fanfic—any infringement is not intended and never will be.  
**Rating:** PG-13 / T  
**Genre/s:** Adventure, Action, Drama, Romance, Tragedy, Horror  
**Currently Listening To:** "Bittersweet" by Apocalyptica, The Rasmus, and HIM  
**Description: **Everyone has secrets, even the Demon Lords. Told in eight sessions, we learn the Scourge of the Digi-Underworld's past, what brought them together, and the viciousness of their great founder.

_**The Demon Chronicles  
**_**Session Four  
****.Leviamon.**

He wanted something.

He _needed_ something.

"Please... Leviamon, please..."

Brunette hair soft as silk...

"Let me go..."

Tears.

Eyes russet-colored and bright, eyes that reminded him of autumn; of the fiery color of fall leaves and the beauty of the darkening sky; a sky ready for winter and all its white wonder...

"Just let me go..."

Tears that ran down such soft cheeks, staining such silk skin.

...A soul of pure snow...

Such a beauty.

So full of light.

So...

Divine.

...Snow that would someday melt away the death of autumn...

(He almost felt dirty keeping something so sacred, so amazingly pure, something not to touch, something so high he could never touch.  
But then again, that was why he wanted her in the first place.)

**-****YAGAMI****-**

...And spring...

**-****HIKARI****-**

**.+.**

(..._**would be reborn**_...)

**.+.**

"LEVIAMON, I _SWEAR,_ if you don't let me out of here, Gatomon is going to turn you inside out!"

_clk-clk-clk_

The chains around her wrists rattled as she moved to strangle the long, red reptilian figure. He watched her with dull eyes, tilting his head briefly to the side before leaning toward her as he flicked his tongue. Smiling more smugly than anything, he said, "I don't... _appreciate_ idle threats, my dear."

The two stared deeply into each other's eyes. It wasn't a romantic moment. Not to Hikari Yagami, at least. She was young, but not too young – it'd been years since her first visit to the Dark Ocean. However, she did have that look to her: that angry gleam in her eyes that said all too well he was pushing buttons. Not that he wanted to mess with Gatomon or anything (no, not after what GranDracmon did to her), but at that moment, Hikari was the only one he wanted there with him. Why release such a beauty from his grand palace in the Dark Ocean?

Then there was a small huff and Hikari's head lowered. He could no longer see her eyes, but immediately he knew her expression. Her shoulders were shaking.

"...'Idle'?" She laughed. _Laughed._ "You think these threats are... _idle,_ Leviamon? Hah... hahaha... You poor fool. You poor, _miserable_ fool."

His eyes fell half-lidded. Such a statement from a human?

"Mm, at least I'm not in chains, m'dear," Leviamon said. Then, with a wave of his massive twin tails, he brought out a chessboard and a small wooden chair. He set it between the two of them and stared at Yagami Hikari for what seemed like a long time before, dully, he said, "Well, don't just stand there and stare. Take a seat. Let's play a game."

"How about no?" Hikari hissed between clenched teeth. She took a step forward, sweat glistening on her brow as brightly as the tears on her cheeks, yet she wasn't crying anymore. She refused to cry, she only wanted to get out, Leviamon knew that. "Never mind, I just want to see Gatomon. I NEED to see Gatomon. I want my brother... TK... Daisuke and the others! Leviamon, let me out of here!"

_**THUD**_

She jumped, eyes wide as her face paled. Those same russet-colored eyes journeyed to Leviamon's tail, which hit the floor so hard it shook the whole palace ground. He was staring at her beadily, bloodstained teeth clenched in a sneer. Quite a sight for her, it must have been. Leviamon could just picture what she was thinking – could there be the bones of her friends in there? Maybe even Gatomon's bones?

"Don't worry," Leviamon said, eyes narrowed. "Gatomon's bones would fade before getting stuck in my teeth."

Stiffly, still staring wide-eyed at his maw, she bit her bottom lip and nodded. Great. Just _great._ She was quivering now, reminding him of some sort of lost child. He didn't picture Hikari for the scared type, though maybe it was more because she was lonely rather than scared. After all, Leviamon was a big guy, a big _scary_ guy, and she was a human. Though, as a mere human, Hikari seemed... so much more.

That's why Leviamon picked her, out of all the other pure innocent girls on Earth, it'd been Hikari who caught his eye. The Crest Wielder of Light, he knew she would not disappoint.

He was looking for something.

Something he felt only Hikari Yagami could give him.

"Please," he whispered, pulling the chair back to allow her room to sit down. Slanting his lips to better hide his teeth, he continued, "It's imperative that you do this, Yagami."

Hesitant, Hikari nodded and took a few steps forward, looked deep into those horrifying red eyes of his, and, as if disbelieving her situation (shaking, eyes bright, eyes angry), she... sat down at the chessboard. Swallowing, she stared at the pieces hollowly – rooks, knights, bishops, queens, kings... pawns. Instruments to use with her wooden puppet hands. Perhaps both of them were staring at those pieces – particularly the pawns, so short and reflecting candlelight off their glassy surface. Perhaps they were both wondering if that's all they were in this game of life – a pawn. Even the great Yagami Hikari – could she be a pawn?

Leviamon knew, without a doubt, that he was GranDracmon's pawn. That's all they were, the Seven Great Demon Lords.

_Clk-clk-clk_

Hikari suddenly buried her face in her hands, a sob, deep and guttural, wracking her whole body. She broke. Just – _broke_ – no longer holding back the tears threatening to fall. Shoulders shaking, chest diving deep and coming back up just as quickly, whole body just... _trembling._ Not just her shoulders, but her legs, her torso, her arms... Leviamon had to wonder if the only reason she sat down was because she saw something in his eyes that most people didn't.

Leviamon was lonely.

Very, very lonely.

Just like her at that moment.

And it was only at this chessboard, finally alone with the girl he'd always dreamed of meeting, always fought to meet, always tried to meet by any means, that he realized her loneliness was similar to his. Different situations, but close... so very close. The queen of light and the king of darkness were finally meeting, and had but one thing in common.

"Hikari..." he said gently as if to pull her out of her inner sanctum, his tail reaching forward to place one of his pawns forward. "Hikari, it's your turn."

Then, screaming like a feral child on parade, Hikari made a wide swiping motion with her right hand, eyes as wide as the Cheshire Cat's. The shackles loudly clattered and all glass chess pieces came crashing to the stone floor, instantly shattering and making an earsplitting tinker. It reminded him of a window breaking, cracked double-pane clashing against the ground at his feet. That's what it was. Just a broken window.

The chess pieces lied still on the floor.

"Alright, so that was the wrong thing to say," Leviamon muttered under his breath.

Hikari was still crying, teeth clenched, one hand holding her face as the other clutched the chessboard for dear life. Her eye – the only one visible from behind her hand – stared deep into Leviamon's gaze, which was... strangely calm. Perhaps that only made her more hysterical because she let out another scream, this time both hands reaching forward to pick up the chessboard and maybe even throw it, but Leviamon's tail rushed forward to slam it back down on the table.

Hikari again shrilly screamed – she was a loose wild animal finally free after years of being in a cage, so much time, so much thought, so much adrenaline to run, stretch her legs and go, go, _go_. She attempted to jump up and—

His tail set her back down on the chair.

Mute, but still sobbing, she hissed and put both elbows on the chessboard, covering her face with her hands as she continued to cry – cry not out of fear or sadness, but out of the complete rage that shook her whole entire body. Knowing he had no chance of bonding with her through chess, Leviamon sighed and tapped his bottom jaw with one of his green claws, eyes narrowed. What way could he get through to her? Well, GranDracmon _had_ kidnapped her and forced her upon him (not that he didn't welcome her company; quite to the contrary, he'd tried so many times to summon her here but she'd always unwittingly rejected his proposal), so he couldn't blame her for being upset, but...

He didn't want it to go down like this.

His whole life he wanted something... _needed_ something, but... he didn't know what that something was.

Then he saw her: a foundation for light and justice.

He wanted her. Wanted to make her his bride. Wanted so much.

But... she was stubborn, and so was he.

"I'm sorry I can't say anything to make this better," Leviamon said after a few seconds of consideration, rising from his spot. "I realize I'm only making this worse, and that's not good. I'm afraid I'm not good at this whole being friendly thing because, you see, I lost my family at a young age. I was probably much younger than you when it happened, just an in-training digimon, and they were... _gone._ Just gone. Faded to the sky, reborn in Primary Village."

Hikari was still crying, but – she'd swallowed and looked up from her hands, staring at him as if he'd caught her attention. Her eyes were red and glassy, and goosebumps covered her arms and legs, but she remained firm, strong, just as always.

He smiled warmly at her, albeit sadly as well.

"Of course, I waited for weeks at Primary Village, waiting for them to hatch and reunite with me. Perhaps I could repay the favor of them raising me by me raising them. However, as fate had it, they... didn't remember me," Leviamon said sourly, hmphing slightly before continuing, "Nonetheless, I still wanted to raise them. But... these five humans came along and, in a battle meant to protect Primary Village, they actually ended up temporarily destroying it, rendering the ones I lost once again gone, and gone for all I know forever."

"Digimon... can truly die?" Hikari hoarsely said, looking up at him with wide eyes. She paled and brought a hand to her lips, pulling back slightly on her chair.

Leviamon sadly nodded.

"Data is fragile, I'm afraid," he replied. "Angry, I digivolved and attacked the humans who accidentally killed my family. Well, as you destined know, five against one is never a good thing, thus I was almost killed by them... However, a man came along and stopped them."

He paused, giving Hikari an old kind of smile. Strangely benign was he at that moment, thinking of his past so fondly; of that man so fondly. Leviamon remembered it like it was yesterday, that man stepping past rain and shine, looking human in shape, but... internally, that man was much, _much_ more.

"His name was Gennai," Leviamon said, looking out toward the window. Through the window shined gray light, gleaming in his dull red eyes, so bright, yet dark. Embittered, he continued, "And he was the only friend I have ever had."

Hikari swallowed.

Looked down to the chessboard.

"Is that why...?" she began, choking on the word as she reached down to pick up a queen piece that earlier rolled against her foot. Holding it up and staring at that white piece, she looked toward Leviamon's figure and repeated, "Is that why you wanted me to play chess with you? Because you'd played it with Gennai? I know Gennai. He's a good friend of mine."

"I'm afraid Gennai would not recognize me now," Leviamon replied simply. Still staring out the window, he didn't need to see Hikari to know she flinched slightly at his words, and flinched even more when she watched Leviamon's tail rise and pick up a black king. He held it next to the white queen and said, "When the Dark Masters destroyed the organization in which Gennai was from – and with the destruction of the organization, the original five Destined – Gennai had to go into hiding. Never again I saw my friend. I was eventually... _consumed_ by my grief."

"A dark hole," Hikari whispered, staring up at Leviamon. She dropped the white queen, not watching as it fell and shattered at her feet. "Like Yamato and Sora... you were... consumed by a dark hole."

"Yes," Leviamon said, finally turning back to her. He took a step forward, tail tossing the black king aside so that it, too, shattered against a wall beside its queen, and there was a flash of happiness across his eyes – a happiness that soon faded when he saw the horrified look on her face. Immediately, he realized what it meant, and he tore his gaze from her. "I... remained in the dark hole too long. Unlike your two friends, I had no one to pull me out, and next thing I knew... I was... _here._ Feeling the ocean at my feet. Feeling the breeze against my scales. And the Scubamon..."

**.+.**

Hundreds of creatures.

Bowed at his feet like insects.

"Yes, Dagomon," they all said, "Our lord and master, we shall follow you!"

"God of the Seas! Lead us!"

"God of the Dark Ocean, fallen from the aether, guide us!"

"We are yours, oh lord and master!"

That day, Dagomon – _Leviamon_ – was no longer alone, but very, very lonely.

That night, when winter's wind grew bone-chilling and snow fell from the gray heavens above, coating the Dark Ocean and freezing it over, something else happened – something stranger than snow falling on an ocean, snow not white, but black, something so much stranger than winter in summer...

But there was a voice in his head...

A voice that said...

**(**_Don't you want _more,_ Dagomon?_**)**

**(**_Look at what Gennai got._**)**

**(**_He got twelve friends, twelve friends named the Destined._**)**

**(**_He's not lonely anymore!_**)**

**(**_Don't you... _deserve_ more, Dagomon?_**)**

**(**_Everyone is so happy. The Scubamon are even happy because you are their lord and master.  
But what about you? Don't you want to be happy, too?_**)**

**(**_Don't you want to be... _**happy**?**)**

That night, Dagomon made a decision.

**(**_I'll give you power beyond your wildest imagination. I'll give you what it is you're searching for..._**)**

**(**_Yagami..._**)**

**(**_Yagami Hikari..._**)**

**(**_That is what – _who –_ you are searching for, right? The light? The warmth of someone to..._**)  
****(**_Care?_**)**

**(**_All of it, Dagomon..._**)**

**(**_I shall give it all..._

_To you._**)**

Yes.

_Give it to me._

_I want it._

_I want it all._

Then, watching the snow fall across his red scales, Dagomon realized what he'd become.

What the voice had given him.

...The power of Leviamon, the great Leviathan Monster...

**.+.**

"I shouldn't tell you this," Leviamon said after a few seconds, quickly looking away from her. He finally had her attention. But this wasn't what he wanted it for. He didn't want her to know this side of him. He couldn't let her know this side of him. Eyes narrowed, he remembered the event with a sharp clarity so intense it caused his stomach to stir. He could see a hand, palms dark, dark not like skin, but like – _shadow._ They were reaching forward, reaching to touch his cheek, to hold him in their grasp until he could no longer breathe.

A stranglehold preying on his greatest desires.

Now they were only delicacies he could not have, these desires.

_Let me give you unbelievable power..._ the memory said. _I will take you... all of you... you will be mine, but at least – _at last – _you shall have everything you have ever envied._

Leviamon always envied MetalSeadramon's power, back when Leviamon was still Dagomon. A long time ago, MetalSeadramon was king of the seas, adored by millions and even "brothers" with the strong, the gracious, the corrupt Dark Masters. Even if the great water serpent did get sliced in half by WarGreymon, it'd originally been by MetalSeadramon's scaly tail that Leviamon lost everyone he loved so dear – his family, his acquaintances, his throne. Since, the ocean's beast wanted that kind of power. The kind of power to take out a whole empire like MetalSeadramon had – for the Leviathan Clan were the Dark Master's greatest rival.

A rival MetalSeadramon assassinated one dreary night.

Leviamon never saw blood move so slowly before that night; watched as it was sprayed, but not quickly, only a dash, spreading across the water like spilled ink soaking into paper. Except this was not black and white. This was red. Red and blue and green.

Leviamon could still remember the cries of his mother. The silhouette of his father, that great and mighty red untamed beast, struggle against the metal behemoth until a bladed tail struck right at the spine.

Still remembered his mother's words to him—_"Power is not strength, power is more than strength, power is—"_ Still remembered those words cut off as more red melded with blue and green.

MetalSeadramon murdered all his rivals that night, all but for the heir of the Leviathan Clan, who hid in a crevice beneath the sea's deepest, most dark caverns.

It was a mistake.

For in killing all those potentially stronger than him, MetalSeadramon had created a monster which gained _not_ the power to take out a whole empire, but a monster which gained the power to take out _hundreds_ of whole empires. Someday, if MetalSeadramon ever – _ever_ – rose to once again take his throne, Leviamon would without a doubt show this astronomical power to his very old, very _dear_ friend.

He didn't want to remember those images.

He couldn't remember those images.

"Leviamon..." Hikari said gently, slowly standing from the chessboard. Hesitating, the girl took a few steps forward to stand beside him, staring out at the wide ocean outside. Such gray, sad waters – who would want to live in such a place of fear and woe? With GranDracmon's "gift", Leviamon was given the power to go between the Dark Ocean and the Digital World, however, he found no need to. After all, this was all he needed. Perhaps Hikari noticed that because she continued, "Sometimes, we make choices we never thought we would make. Sometimes, situations turn out differently than we expect. Sometimes, tales are meant to be retold – because retelling something helps us understand it."

He took a deep, ragged breath. She looked away from the window and toward him, waiting for an answer, but when he could find no words to say, she only – smiled? – and said sadly, "I'm not your friend. Frankly, I try not to be friends with digimon who kidnap me and try to marry me—"

"Hey, it was GranDracmon who kidnapped you this time, not me—"

"First of all, '_this_' time, and second of all, it doesn't matter. It was still something you could stop, but you didn't," she said, raising a firm eyebrow. He sighed and, feeling dismissed, he allowed her to continue her point. "But, just like I said earlier, things – and people, digimon – can surprise you. Sometimes, digimon turn out differently than you think they would. You're... different than how I thought you would be when the Scubamon told me they wanted me to be their queen."

"They did what?"

"Anyway, Leviamon, listen – if you need to tell me something, I've already judged you harsher than you'd like to know, so you might as well just tell me," Hikari said with a small, coy grin, patting Leviamon's scales. "I can handle anything, and after all, you have a story to tell, don't you?"

Leviamon listened to her for a minute. He thought over what she said – it sounded right in his head when he first heard it – but there was still a lingering doubt in his mind. A doubt that he wished he'd had when that dark hand was reached out to him years ago. But in the end, he looked back up at Hikari, tilted his head to the side, and smiled warmly.

Leviamon... _smiled._

"No, I don't have a story to tell, not anymore," Leviamon said. It was something Hikari might not have expected, but had she any surprise she didn't show it in her expression. She just smiled back and nodded, as if understanding, and he continued, "Despite not being your friend, Yagami Hikari..."

_Leviathan,_ something in his head said. _The sky is clear._

No snow, no snow, we've got no snow.

His tail skidded across the stone floor, scraping away a black knight and a white rook, and grabbed the steel doorknob of the bedroom. It seemed that he held his tail there for a long time, just gazing at those beautiful brown eyes of hers, but, in the end, knowing that such a being like her would never fall for such a being like him, his tail shifted and the door

Opened

"I want you to know that you are _my_ friend," he said, "And you are always welcomed to come and go if you ever wish to return."

She paled.

Just... paled.

Stared Leviamon right in the eye with a stunned expression.

Could he really be... letting her go?

It was a thought not even Leviamon seemed to be able to comprehend. This was the one thing he longed for so deeply, that thronging in his chest for the light, the pure, the innocence and beauty of everything Yagami Hikari was and embodied – he could not even believe the calm he felt in his chest when he saw her – but...

If he truly cared for her...

He would let her go...

And hope for her safe return.

For perhaps, someday, she would return to the Dark Ocean. Maybe not to marry him – that would be ludicrous – but yes, someday, maybe, they could play a game of chess.

The white queen and black king were shattered.

But there was still a black queen, and a white king.

What an interesting game it would be.

What a very, _very_ interesting game.


	6. Session Five: Beelzemon

_**The Demon Chronicles**_

**Disclaimer:** I am absolutely not making profit off of this fanfic—any infringement is not intended and never will be.  
**Rating:** PG-13 / T  
**Genre/s:** Adventure, Action, Drama, Romance, Tragedy, Horror  
**Currently Listening To:** "Heaven's Not Enough" by Steve Conte.  
**Description: **Everyone has secrets, even the Demon Lords. Told in eight sessions, we learn the Scourge of the Digi-Underworld's pasts, what brought them together, and the viciousness of their great founder.  
**Author's Note:** Again, thank you to all my reviewers (The Digital Gate, Hina Kariachi Hakubi, Yatsirch, Nillian, and GuitarDude Two-One-Five)! :) Here we embark on Session Five: Beelzemon, which was actually the first session I wrote two years ago. Since, I've written the others and re-ordered them in a way I'd find most effective. Also, if you're interested in more stories involving the Seven Great Demon Lords, check out my community! It's still developing, so of course there's not a ton there yet.

So, without further adieu...

_**The Demon Chronicles**_  
**Session Five  
****Beelzemon**

_Ai, Mako, Juri, Renamon_ – what were these names to him? Just words, caught in his memory like papers caught in the wind? Nothing, anything? Everything? Four creatures. Four great, powerful creatures. Their names echoed in the dark corners of his mind, driving him mad as he gazed up at the night sky above him. The stars were shining bright that night. It was a strange thing to note, the small specks of white light, yet Beelzemon had always taken comfort in their brightness, even as a being of darkness, but he wouldn't ever admit that out loud. He had a reputation to live up to.

The stars reflected in his red eyes as he yawned and, feeling silly, shook his head.

**(**_Your name..._**)**

Staring up at the stars reminded him of many things. The thing he'd always remember was the first memory he had – a memory he'd gained when he first became a Demon Lord many eons ago.

**(**_Your name is Beelzemon..._**)  
**The voice was strong.  
Illustrious.  
**(**_You are..._**)**

What was he, this Beelzemon?

**(**_You are a Demon Lord._**)**

That's right.

He was a Demon Lord.

The Demon Lord of Gluttony.

_Ai, Mako, Juri, and Renamon..._

He didn't know those names.

He really didn't.

Who are they?

That was the question he always asked.

Listen, voice, answer – who were they?

\ You told Beelzemon their names, why won't you tell him who they are? More importantly, /  
\ why won't you tell him who they are to **him**_?_ /

**(**_They are everything you lost..._**)  
****(**_The ones who will make you fight..._**)  
****(**_Please, do wonder about them, question about them – who are they, Beelzemon?_**)**

**(**_Who are they?_**)**

**(**_Indulge yourself to find answers._**)**

Indulge...?

**(**_Shed blood. Shed a lot of blood._**)**

Blood...

**(Blood.)**

**(**_Only then will you find the answers you seek._**)**

He didn't understand it, yet there was something inside him that made him _want_ to understand it.

That voice...

So deep. So old. So long-forgotten, and so long ago that only his words remained, without a single body to place that voice within.

The Demon Lord shook his head, standing at his full height and glancing toward his sleeping comrades, nearly hidden in the shadows of the grove surrounding them. The moon was high, the wind a whisper against his ear as it ruffled the white fur of his jacket. Tree boughs were reaching out into the night like skeletal fingers, pawing for anything – anything at all – to once again fill their bare branches.

Autumn.

Beelzemon hated autumn.

But still, a few trees had their leaves, and it was under these trees that the Demon Lords nested. No palace for them tonight, nosiree. They were on an important mission.

Belphemon was lying a few feet away from him, back turned to him, his foot roosted on a tree stump. Lilithmon was sleeping against Lucemon's stiff form, both of them breathing gently—their chests slowly rising and falling, rising and falling. Leviamon was a little ways away, his red figure silhouetted by the moonlight as he laid on a grassy hill, Barbamon leaning against his massive belly and using it as a pillow. Demon was leaning against a tree, sitting up, his eyes obscured inside his dark red hood, his breathing slow and gentle.

He—Beelzemon—yawned, then quickly shook his head.

"Stay awake," said a rough voice in front of him. Belphemon stirred. He had eyes that were only open in slits, his back turned to Beelzemon as he listened to the Demon Lord of Gluttony grow tired. Belphemon didn't even glance at him—though his voice was firm enough that Beelzemon didn't need to see his eyes to feel his hair stand on end. "No slacking off like last time or I'll bite your hand off for _real."_

"Like you should talk about staying awake..." Beelzemon snorted, turning away from him and crossing his arms. "You're lucky Lucemon favors you, _Belphie_."

Out of all the Demon Lords – no, out of all the digimon in all the dimensions – Lucemon was the only digimon (or living being in general) Beelzemon held enough respect for to listen to. He didn't always follow Lucemon's orders, but he would've rather followed a few than get on the digimon's bad side. He and Lucemon had a sort of understanding when it came to stuff like that; a respect for each other like that.

Belphemon didn't answer except with a single annoyed grunt, then a small snore. Belphemon was undoubtedly the most grumpy of the group, because he was the Demon Lord of Sloth and never had the desire to do anything but sleep. When it came time to pillaging and destroying kingdoms, Belphemon was the quickest of them all so that he could hurry back to his desert tower and rest. Tonight, however, he was grumpiest of all, because they were camped out while hiding from the Royal Knights and their associates. The Demon Lords could undoubtedly take on the Royal Knights and put up a grand fight, however the problem rested within the associates – the "associates" themselves were many mon who the Demon Lords had close, personal connections to. The Royal Knights knew this. They wanted to use this to its fullest advantage.

One of those associates, part of a group who called themselves the "Heavenly Ladies", was Sakuyamon. Beelzemon didn't know why, but strangely, the name stuck out like a sore thumb. None of the other Demon Lords were concerned about her, but to him, and only him, she whispered to him in his dreams. He never understood the whispers, but they sure understood him.

There were many amusing rumors surrounding that particular digimon, that when she tried to cross the borders between her dimension and this dimension as a Taomon, her data got scrambled. Originally she was only supposed to become Sakuyamon while merged with a human – now that human was gone, and Sakuyamon could stay Sakuyamon without any merging, but only under the pretense that she could never de-digivolve, for if she did, she would forever lose the power she gained.

The group Sakuyamon was a part of – the Heavenly Ladies – was a well-known crew of powerful feminine digimon, including Sakuyamon, Angewomon, and even Babamon, and each of them had their own agenda with the Demon Lords. Their own... problem that the Demon Lords would have rather not dealt with.

The Demon Lord of Gluttony turned away from his comrades, walking out a few feet from the campsite to get some fresh air. He slid past a few trees, palms gently scraping across them as he dully glanced at the sky. Filtered clouds passed over a few stars, a breeze listlessly drifting by Beelzemon and ruffling his hair.

_Ai, Mako, Juri—_ that was what the wind whispered – or perhaps it was just his imagination playing tricks on him. It was a thought that went interrupted as he glanced to his right, seeing there something... odd. Whatever it was, it flickered, causing him to clench his fists, muscles tensing as he readied himself for anything that could come of that flicker.

His eyes narrowed.

_That feeling again,_ he thought. _Someone's watching me._

Just as the thought slithered across his mind, a voice spoke up—a voice that was gentle but firm, strong but feminine. It was a voice he hardly recognized, though he failed to know from where.

"Beelzemon," the voice said, a golden light flickering again from the shadows. "Long time no see, old friend."

"'Friend'?" Beelzemon said with a raised brow, putting a hand in front of his eyes as the light got brighter. Shadows veiled his face, yet that bright glimmer flecked his pale flesh with gold.

"Yes..." the figure said.

"_Friend_."

"I don't have friends," Beelzemon said with a grunt, eyeing the shadows. "Whoever you are, you better come out before I take this gun and lodge a few slugs through your skull, like kah-pow. Ya got me? Badda bing, badda boom."

Again, silence.

A restless, growing silence.

Then, from that silence, there was a chuckle.

A laugh.

"You? Kill me with Berenjena? Even without your memories, you wouldn't."

The voice tittered again and a gloved hand reached out, grabbing a branch as if for support as a figure emerged from the shadows. She wore gold-plated armor and had the palest hue of purple lips, skin pallid as her gray hair filled two golden holders. She carried herself like a goddess with a strange refined grace – and, at that moment, as Beelzemon watched her descend from her copse of shadows, he could've sworn she _was_ one.

"Sakuyamon," Beelzemon said, head tilted to the right. So this was the one he'd felt? "I've heard a lot about you."

He gazed at her for a few seconds, glint shining brightly in his eyes as he studied her form. As soon as she bowed her head, her shoulders tensed. He wondered – did he make her nervous with how quiet he was? As a mon with a bounty on his head, she probably expected him to shoot her as soon as she showed herself.

**I**_ expected to shoot her as soon as she showed herself,_ he thought with a grunt. He merely gave her a rugged grin and thumbed his chin.

"Bow chica bow wow." He shifted the gun in his hand to sheath it behind his back, grin widening as he then tapped his chin while showing his teeth. "Man, they really weren't lying when they said you were _fine_, Sakuyamon. The entrance? Brill. Loved it. _Really._ As the Demon Lord of Gluttony, I'd really love to indulge myself in the sin of lust with you, but, uh—I'm on watch, so. I should probably return. We'll do this some other time—maybe in three moons?"

Sakuyamon tensed. Though he couldn't see her eyes, the digimon's intentions were clear – she was _glaring._ Beelzemon backed away, yet a flare of pride forced him to stay put, yet curiosity forced him to continue looking into those closed eyes atop her golden fox helmet, yet... he couldn't deny the fact that her story, and everything about her, intrigued him. When he said nothing in reply to her intense glare, she sighed, leaned forward, and... examined him...?

_What?_

"What—what are you _doing_?" he snarled, his claws clenching to form fists; fists that were never raised as—somehow—he found himself paralyzed. Immobile, frozen, as her hand softly, tenderly, raked over his cheek. The motion made his muscles grow rigid, eyes slowly widening.

"...What did GranDracmon do to you?" she said quietly, biting her bottom lip as she examined his face. Every crease. Every pore. Every frown and smile and insane expression he'd made within his radiant eyes.

The voice in his memories began to reverberate inside his mind again, shaking his thoughts as it reminded him, _"Their names are Ai, Mako, Juri, and Renamon, and they are everything you lost."_

His next movement was swift, almost as if he'd done it intentionally. He grabbed her wrist, eyes narrowed as he leaned forward so that their faces were only inches apart. He could feel her breath against his cheeks, her warm skin against his cold fingertips—which made him hesitate for a second.

"I see," Sakuyamon said, letting out a small sigh as she began to turn.

Beelzemon blinked.

Stared at the wrist he still gripped.

Turned back to her. Glared. Snarled, "What can YOU 'see'?! Did I even say anything to make you see my point?! Did I ever even STATE a point?! I should rip you to pieces right here and now! You're my enemy! You _touched my face_! I don't even _know _you!"

"You _let_ me touch your face." Sakuyamon apathetically stared back at him, taking a moment to reach her free hand forward and cup his hand—the hand he'd prior used to grab her wrist—to bring it away from her. "Pigheaded as always, I see."

"Pigheaded?!" Beelzemon hissed. "If you're trying to make me see some mystical mojo that'll make me 'come into the light, praise be to Goddramon or Yggdrasil or **whatever** _the hell_ you believe!', you've got a LONG way to go, toots."

Silence.

Was she... trembling? Trembling in his grasp?

But not out of fear. No, the legendary Sakuyamon would _never_ tremble in fear, even before one of the greatest, one of the strongest, one of the most well-known Demon Lords.

"GranDracmon... he... he stole your memories, didn't he?" she said, leaning even closer to him. Centimeters apart, she held his hand, her gaze boring into his own. "The deaths of the Tamers, the dimension-hopping? He stole it all from you, didn't he? All the centuries you've lived, he's stolen?"

_The deaths of the Tamers._

His heart began to race. Began to rip. To tear. To fragment.

_The deaths_

_Of_

_The Tamers_

Why, he didn't know, but for whatever reason, that – statement, that fact, that knowledge – made everything inside his chest stir, a melancholy that could only subtly begin to mourn within him, though he could never show it through tears, not yet, not in front of her, not... not here. Not until he knew _why_ he felt so sad.

He reached forward, hands clasping at her elbows as he said, "What do you know?"

"Everything."

"Tell me..." Such a wealth of knowledge and he didn't know what to ask for. Though Sakuyamon was supposed to be his enemy, his rival, the one he hated most, through all of that blind hatred, everything within him was pushing him to hold onto her elbows, to ask her, to know everything that great wealth of knowledge held. She _knew him._ She knew him possibly better than he knew himself. "Tell me _everything_."

She hesitated.

Bit her bottom lip.

Reached forward to rest her palms on his shoulders.

"There's—not much to tell," she said, seeming numb, seeming sad, seeming... as unbelieving as he was. "At one time, you had partners, Beelzemon, _human_ partners, who gave you love, and affection, and friendship; a love, affection, and friendship which you wholeheartedly returned, though you were hesitant at first. We called these partners the Tamers. Ai and Mako, your Tamers, as well as my Tamer—Ruki—and all the other Tamers grew old. One by one, they... died. Unlike us digimon, who have an extraordinarily long lifespan, humans die a lot quicker than us. You know that."

"So they all died of old age..." Beelzemon said, embittered by the thought. "How pathetic."

Sakuyamon gave him a pointed gaze, tone just as sharp as she said, "Pathetic? Humans don't live for centuries – even millennia – like us. They age. And when they die, they _don't become eggs._ They_ are not _reborn. For a human, to die of old age is, though not always the preferred death of humans, a sort of – honor to many, to explain it in terms someone like you would understand. To live that long _should_ be honored for them. It's not a pathetic way to die for most."

Beelzemon didn't reply. Instead, his grip tightened on her as he listened, trying to comprehend her words, though he, himself, began to feel numb. He didn't want to hear this. He didn't want to hear that they were all dead forever.

Yet... he did. He had to know more. He had to know _everything._ He had to know why GranDracmon chose _him._

"The Tamers died happily... and as a result, when their digimon—us—saw another dimension in need of our help, we had no reason to stay in a realm that didn't need us. You, me, the others that were left behind by their tamers' deaths—we all divided to spread our wisdom and experience in other realms, and do what we could to protect them from the evils which would eventually arise."

Beelzemon brought her closer, teeth clenched, his gaze fierce as he stared into her eyes, his muscles tensing, tensing, tensing. Could she be lying? No, probably not, if only she were.

"And was one of those partners—" _That name! Oh, what was the name?!_ "—Juri?"

Sakuyamon stared at him blankly for a minute, glancing back and forth between both his red eyes, before she slowly nodded. "Juri's long gone."

Juri... _Juri..._ dead? Again, his heart splintered.

_Ai, Mako, Juri_—three out of four links to his past severed in a matter of seconds. Ai and Mako... they'd been his partners. _Partners._ Beelzemon had not _**a**_ partner, but partner_**s**__**.**_ Oh, the irony! Now he could join Belphemon and Barbamon and Demon and the spirit of all virus digimon in their woes about partners!

Then—

"Renamon," he said without a second to waste, fingers trembling as he stared into her eyes. "Was Renamon one of the partners' digimon?"

Sakuyamon's eyes glazed over, her muscles tightening as she stared back into his firm gaze. He could feel her shaking, just as she could feel him shaking. The two of them, on opposite ends of the spectrum, tyrants and rulers of untellable power—_shaking._ Not infallible, but fallible.

"Tell me," Beelzemon hissed, desperately, clinging to her like a frightened child yet it was a feeling they both shared; a feeling they both loathed. "Tell me where Renamon is!"

Then...

She smiled.

Her muscles loosened.

"She's..."

It hit him, staring at Sakuyamon, the gold she wore, the presence she held. Sakuyamon. Sakuyamon, could she be...?

A hand, smooth as silk and pale as fair, reached forward.

Touched his chest.

Tenderly.

"She's right here."

As gently as the first snowfall of winter.

He knew it when he saw her. Could feel it when he saw her. A feeling he'd recognized.

The air stilled, his heart felt frozen, the air left his lungs and she smiled up at him, shaking like the frightened child they both were.

She was...

"I... am Renamon."

His heart immediately calmed. His muscles relaxed, as did hers. Beelzemon couldn't tell how long he'd been silent, just watching her as she watched back. He continued to hold her still, though she didn't struggle—and the two stared at each other.

"I've been looking for you," she said, looking away from him to the sky. Beelzemon felt a chill trickle down his spine as he stared at her and the stars reflecting off her armor. Stared, deeply, as a mon who understood yet did not understand at all, stared, watched, examined... her graceful movements, the way her hair moved with the wind, the way her voice sounded.

Renamon.

This was... _Renamon. _

She slowly, oh so slowly, looked back at him, rigid yet strangely, benignly strong, as she tilted her head to the right. "I've been looking for so long, Impmon."

It was almost instinct as he moved his hands away from her elbows—instead shifting them to her face. He brought her closer, fingertips tracing along her helmet's rim. He gently placed them underneath, feeling the soft skin beneath the cool metal. She smiled, clasping his hands as he reached beneath her helmet, guiding them, leaning into the very touch he'd so violently denied before.

He didn't know why... but he had to see those eyes.

Those eyes of hers he felt, deep down, meant something to him in the past.

Eyes he hadn't seen in years.

He slowly lifted the helmet off her head, watching as her hair flowed around her form, eyes slowly opening as her fingers dug into the cloth clinging to his chest.

...Blue...

A dark, illuminating blue surrounded by black. _Her eyes—_these _eyes—_

She stared at him dully, showing no expression, or perhaps she was too numb to express anything at all—unlike Beelzemon, whose gaze brightened as he tossed the helmet to the side, head cocking to the right.

"Renamon," he said, the word echoing more in his mind than in actual reality. The word felt warm on his tongue—or perhaps warm in his soul. He leaned closer to her, forehead leaning against hers. She didn't move other than to wrap her arms around his neck, eyes narrowed as she sniffled. He felt the corner of his lips quirk into a grin, hands wrapping around her waist. "Oh, _Renamon_, baby."

Beelzemon didn't know why he was doing this, but he didn't know _a lot_ of things, and he certainly didn't know why he'd done what he had throughout the whole entire night. All he knew was that this was it, this is what felt _right,_ something he hadn't felt in so _long_.

A moment he would have frozen in time if he could.

And that was when another voice, separate from his or hers, vibrated down the long trail of trees from the campsite.

"Beelzemon, where the HELL are you?!"

"Lucemon—" Beelzemon said, eyes widening as his pupils shrunk. A cold breeze blew by, his grasp loosening on Sakuyamon.

"I told you to keep an eye on this place!" the voice bellowed as an explosion sounded off. "Dammit, 'effing Numemon!"

Beelzemon shifted his gaze to the site. However, when he looked back where Sakuyamon had been, no one was there—his arms were extended in thin air, his body beginning to grow cold from the warmth that'd recently left. His eyes narrowed as he glanced at the shadows in the distance where a golden light flickered, shortly withdrawing from his view before fading into the dark of a cold, snow-withered night.

_Renamon,_ he thought, grabbing his forehead and closing his eyes. He felt something hot forming at the back of his eyes, those three lost names at the forefront of his mind before he turned back to his comrades and began his long way back.

_Ai, Mako, Juri—Renamon... I'll find out who you were and why GranDracmon gave me your names. I promise. _

_I'll remember you._

He'd remember them without being gluttonous.

Without killing. Without murdering. Without indulging in the arts of blood.

For though he was a Demon Lord of Gluttony, he was also a digimon. A _digimon._ And that meant more than bloodshed and power and vengeance. So, so much more.


	7. Session Six PART ONE: Belphemon

_**The Demon Chronicles**_

_"And you don't seem the lying kind  
A shame then I can read your mind  
And all the things that I read there  
Candle-lit smile that we both share"  
_—Boa Kwon

**Disclaimer:** I am absolutely not making profit off of this fanfic—any infringement is not intended and never will be.  
**Rating:** PG-13 / T  
**Genre/s:** Adventure, Action, Drama, Romance, Tragedy, Horror  
**Currently Listening To:** "Duvet" by BôA.  
**Description: **Everyone has secrets, even the Demon Lords. Told in eight sessions, we learn the Scourge of the Digi-Underworld's pasts, what brought them together, and the viciousness of their great founder.  
**Author's Note:** GuitarDude Two-One-Five brought up an interesting point in his review a few days ago about Beelzemon's session. :) He wasn't quite sure how that session related to Beelzemon's sin (Gluttony), which is a good question. As quoted by Merriam Webster, the second definition of gluttony is "greedy or excessive indulgence". GranDracmon ordered Beelzemon to overindulge himself in blood and death to find the answer to his questions, and so Beelzemon complied and overindulged in the arts of blood (which, as we saw of Beelzemon in Digimon's third season, he can overindulge in his desire for blood/power quite well). I hope that clears up any confusion, though I suppose the session can be taken any way you interpret it! Thank you.

So, without further adieu...

_**The Demon Chronicles**_  
**Session Six: PART ONE  
****.Belphemon.**

It was the dead of winter.

Snow, white and pure, covered the roads and sidewalks; extended over valleys and plains, froze rivers and dreams.

It was true that time itself seemed to stop as the snow fell that night, flakes fluttering over the small human child's face. Her eyes, a grayish-purple hue, slowly opened, and she gazed out toward the velvet-colored sky.

Making a small hiccup sound, it was soon that she realized a pair of warm, strong hands picked her up from her cradle and rocked her back and forth, back and forth, and it was in those warm strong hands that she fell asleep. The last thing she saw before falling into that sweet dark abyss was a pair of amber-colored eyes, gazing at her brightly for the first time.

That was the night Nikkou became a part of the Shitsugen family – and the twin sister of Kaikatsu, a young boy whom she would call KK.

**.+.**

Thirteen years later, on that same cold night with snow falling outside, Kaikatsu Shitsugen was sitting before a window, staring out at the dark, listless night. It was one of those moments he wanted to just—stand up—hug her—to tell her it'd be okay, that it wasn't Nikkou's fault that Dad was—gone. They'd never gotten to say goodbye, of course. And Nikkou really didn't mean to do it. She wanted to be hugged by those warm, strong arms again, too. Kaikatsu knew that.

But it was too late.

Their mother knew that, too.

She at one time was an irresponsible, witless louse around the house. Didn't really care about what they did or what they said, didn't care when they got F's or if they didn't clean their room once for two years. Didn't help Dad with the bills or make money, but they couldn't call her a housewife, either, since she never really cleaned or cooked or took care of them. It'd always been Dad who took care of them.

However, two years ago, that changed. Changed completely.

Nikkou was sick with a horrible fever. It wracked her whole body, face flushed, sweat dotting her cheeks. Kaikatsu remembered feeling her forehead and instantly tearing his hand away, eyes wide as he realized just how hot she was. 102 degrees, her temperature said. Dad was on his way to get a doctor, since Nikkou was having troubles moving and they couldn't even get her to the car. Moving her an inch caused her to scream, shrill and tearful, and after all, the clinic was less than five minutes away.

Who would have thought that, in the lane across from him, the man had fallen asleep? Who would have guessed that it was this night, two years ago, the sleeping man would regret for the rest of his life? That Dad's eyes, though sharp and colored amber and able to catch things as fast as his brain comprehend them, would not be able to see the sleeping man's car in time? They'd never see Dad again. Nikkou was too delirious to even realize it was for her life that Dad was gone forever, and it wasn't until a week later and some strenuous watching by their mother that she realized Dad was even dead.

After that, everything changed. Not just their lives, but their mother, as well. She began to coax them into doing their homework, into studying; she pressured them to clean their room and if she was in a good mood, she'd even clean it, herself. She taught each of them how to make at least five meals in case she was out late at work, and when she was home, she'd make them dinner. She did everything she could to fill the hole that their father left, and in return, the Shitsugen Twins did everything they could do to be the best children they could be for the mother who lost her husband; the mother who was doing everything in her power not to lose her kids.

And it was this night for the first time since two years ago that it was Nikkou who stood from her seat at the computer, walked over to Kaikatsu at the window, and embraced him. As a generally claustrophobic person, Nikkou wasn't very clingy. Especially after Dad's death. However, when she hugged him, they'd both felt a longing for the life lost, and the lives it changed.

And changed would Nikkou and Kaikatsu become.

"It's alright, KK," Nikkou whispered to him that night, holding him tightly to her. "I'm here, and I will protect you."

"Nikkou..."

She held him tightly.

When they drew apart, they drew apart only a few inches. He blinked and looked at her, deep into her eyes, and she smiled warmly, reaching forward to feel his cheek against her hand. He bit his bottom lip, and, similar to someone maternal yet not maternal at all, someone who was the opposite of maternal yet – at the same time – tenderly, and so gently, she leaned forward and kissed the top of his head.

Bringing her lips to his ear, she continued, "We will not be alone for long."

"Alone?"

"Not alone... _Never_ alone..."

That night, it was the dead of winter, and everything once again froze. Dreams. Rivers. Plains and valleys and possibly time itself. As their young mother Jia stepped in to check on them before bed, she saw a sight that would forever change all their lives once more, as it had once changed two years ago. There was a brilliant flash of orange light, darkness and red manifesting out from their computer monitor. Nikkou was sitting beside Kaikatsu, practically atop of him, holding his hand, as the room filled with light and fog, the cold of winter seeping through the windows.

The hair on the back of their necks stood on end. Goosebumps covered their arms and legs. Their teeth chattered.

The fog obscured two figures, seen and recognized only by their silhouettes, crouching low to the ground before both Nikkou and Kaikatsu. Jia rushed forward, shouting something inaudible, but she was too late. A vine whipped forward and grabbed her by the ankle, ripping her feet out from under her. She fell back and landed with a bone-crunching _fwump!_, eyes wide as the realization hit: those two figures... they weren't even human.

The fog began to clear.

Ice froze over the windowpane.

The silhouettes rose from their crouched position... Rose from the floor, and revealed two figures, one who was dressed in deep red and black leather, her hair not – _hair, _really – but a red rose. In her hand she held a green whip, unfurled and twisted around her like a gown without any attachment to her legs. She wore a grin of red lipstick and white teeth, blond hair tumbling from behind the rose atop her head, and as the two children stared at her, she leaned forward.

Her face neared Kaikatsu's.

She flashed her grin.

Said, "Hello, _'KK'_. My name is Rosemon... and I was created just for you."

Just then, the other figure made his presence known. This presence seemed – no, _was_ – a lot more sinister than Rosemon's, for with him, pink sleeves spilled from a red mantle upon his shoulders, cloaking two pairs of five blade-like figures which clicked together as he took a step forward, revealing red flannel trousers and thin silver-bladed shoes. His hair was orange like sunburned shine and his gaze was veiled beneath the darkness created by a white pointed helmet. He was more quiet than his leather-covered friend, however his appearance came just as sudden, just as cautious, just as... evident.

He leaned forward.

Brought his cheek just centimeters from Nikkou's, so close they could feel each other's breath on the crook of their necks. The corner of her lip curled, as did his, and he whispered, "So it is you..."

That grin widened. The cold breeze grew bitter. Her expression grew warmer. His pink sleeves fluttered with the wind as her wild hair tangled in his mantle, gazes burning brightly as the smoldering candle sat dim atop the computer desktop. He reached forward, one of his blades gently running through the hair billowing beside his face; careful not to cut it, not to cut her, the benign beauty of the Real World:

"_..._**Yggdrasil**_..._"

The name somehow brought a shudder to Kaikatsu's spine, though why he didn't know. It wasn't until she brought a hand to the bladed creature's chest that Kaikatsu felt something off about the figure; something off about Nikkou; she stared at the bladed creature from the corner of her eye and, with that warm grin, she replied, "Impeccable timing as always... _Matadormon_."

The winds calmed. Her hair fell around her and the bladed creature's fingers went limp against his side. She smiled sadly and narrowed her eyes into slits, feeling the dark cold pull at her grayish-purple eyes and pale skin. She quivered, goosebumps forming on her arms and legs, as it did on Kaikatsu.

"You... know each other?" Kaikatsu said, eyes widening, looking from Rosemon to Matadormon. For a few more seconds, the three remained silent, though in the end perhaps that silence was deafening.

"We are digimon," said Rosemon, a bit stiffly as she stood at full height, bringing her hands to her hips. "Right, Matadormon?"

"Digimon, yes..." Matadormon looked to Nikkou. "Digimon, no..."

"I..." Nikkou looked away from Matadormon, but not exactly toward her twin, either. She bowed her head, holding her hands, biting her bottom lip. "I _created_ them, and dozens of others. Soon, their data will multiply and take on its own forms, and they won't even need me anymore to help create them. I created a whole _world_ for them; a _potential_ world for them to nurture and care for. Yes, I made them, because..."

Kaikatsu was shaking. She was shaking. Before he could speak, she rushed forward, hugging him as she said, "I don't want us to be alone ever again!"

"...What?" Kaikatsu whispered, reaching forward to grab his sister by her elbows. "But—"

"We are..." Rosemon – kneeled? Brought a hand to her chest as the other extended.

Immediately, Matadormon followed her cue and kneeled, as well. "...At your service."

Kaikatsu sat, finding his throat so closed he couldn't even speak. Heck, he was so taken aback he had a feeling that if his throat wasn't closed, he still wouldn't have been able to speak, anyway. These two titans of power – kneeling before he and his sister? He, KK Shitsugen, and... _"Yggdrasil"?_

"WHAT is the DEAL?!" came a sudden scream. Both children jumped, however the two digimon just glanced at each other before the shrill human behind them, whose sandy blonde hair swung around her in messy strands, deep reddish-brown eyes glinting angrily as she pointed at the two monsters. "Can someone PLEASE explain to me why we have – WHATEVER THEY ARE – in here right now?!"

All four of them stared at Jia, who was panting, standing, with wide glaring eyes. Then, bringing a strand of hair behind her ear, Nikkou stood, smiling warmly.

"They're... guardian angels," Nikkou said. When their mother's eyes widened, Nikkou's smile widened, she tilted her head to the side, and finished, "And they are my _best_ friends. My _only_ friends."

**.+.**

Reluctantly, after Nikkou explained to her mother about how she'd managed to create these beings and even manifested them on Earth rather than the Digital World, Jia allowed the two creatures to stay. It was a worried move, and Jia didn't quite know how she felt about letting two destructive creatures guard her children, but... if Nikkou – "created" – them, and Nikkou trusted them so well, perhaps – just perhaps – Jia would give them a chance. She was new to this whole caring parent deal, but she wanted Nikkou to be happy...

But if the tides of war would wash over them, then so be it, she herself would be the one to kick the two digimon out. If they hurt her babies, she _would_ be the one to lay the final blow, for no one messed with Jia Shitsugen's children. _No one._

Years ago, when the twins were still four or five, Jia remembered how she'd pick them up from the ground and hold them to the sky. Watching their baby-fat smiles and how they laughed every time she held them high made her happy, just as it made them happy. She remembered reading stories to them, watching them listen intently to every detail she included.

Then they grew up, and they didn't want bedtime stories anymore. With Jia's bad back (a bad back she'd had ever since she was 25 years old), they'd soon gotten too big to be held up to the sky. She couldn't watch the clouds sift across the blue behind them, couldn't watch as the sun made a halo above their heads.

They'd grown up.

And after her husband's death, she realized that life really was too short.

And so she began to live it. And let her children live it.

And she would not let two creatures ruin her children's lives which they had only begun.

**.+.**

**(**_Nikkou... we are one..._**)**

**(**_You... and I_**)**

**(**_Can you feel it? That beating in your chest?_**)**

**(**_That is your heart..._

_..._Our_ heart..._

_And soon, it will not only be our hearts which are one_**)**

Yes, I understand...

Yes, Matadormon...

**.+.**

"What's _that_, Rosemon?" Kaikatsu asked her one day, pointing to the rose-colored jewel on her chest. He leaned toward her, tapping his finger against its shiny surface. Rosemon, annoyed, slapped his hand and he winced, wrenching it away. Giving her big, shiny, puppy-dog eyes with an amber-colored gaze (just as Dad used to do with Mom), he said, "Ow... Rosemon, that huuuurt!"

"Cry me a river," Rosemon huffed, folding her arms below her breasts. She eyed him, especially as he leaned forward again with an even bigger grin than before, winking at her.

"Heck, I'll even build you a bridge," Kaikatsu said quietly. Rosemon's eyes narrowed, but before she could respond, his eyes drew back to the jewel on her chest.

Rosemon, now even more annoyed, snorted. "Shouldn't you be cleaning your room or something?"

"Too lazy." He cocked his head to the side, curious, and said, "So – what is it, seriously?"

"Are you blind? It's a jewel!"

"But it's not a normal one, right?" Kaikatsu blinked, wanting to reach forward again and tap on it as if it were a fish in a tank, but he contained his desires. He didn't want to get slapped again. Man, leather against skin _hurt._ When Rosemon's eyes narrowed in response (as if asking, _"how'd you know?"_), he smiled and shrugged. "You're always guarding it, and though you don't think anybody notices it, I do... I can sometime see it when I'm sleeping. Not in my dreams or anything – that'd be a little creepy. But – have you ever seen a light when you close your eyes? Like someone turned on the lamp beside your bed or something, and you can see it through your eyelids?"

Rosemon remained silent.

Her silence – one of her many cues to continue – gave him the incentive to go on, and so he continued somewhat excitedly, "Sometimes, I think I see that jewel shining in front of me when I'm sleeping. Just a few flickers of light, not that much, but... It makes me feel better when I see it, because it means you're close to me, and if you're close to me, I know I'm safe."

Rosemon stared at him blankly. With her pale expression and her quiet demeanor – a demeanor Rosemon only had on her grumpiest of days, like if she couldn't get one of her golden strands of hair to straighten right – Kaikatsu wasn't sure if he'd gotten through to her. When she had no response, he sighed, shrugged his shoulders, and turned from her. Looked like he wouldn't learn the mystery of the jewel, a jewel Rosemon guarded more than anything, even more than Kaikatsu.

Then, suddenly, before he walked out of the room:

"It's called a Tifaret." She leaned against one of the light-blue walls of Kaikatsu and Nikkou's room. It was empty all but for the two of them, and when she spoke, he immediately spun around to face her. Quite obviously interested, he smiled big and sat on a bed, ready to listen to her. Seeing his enthusiasm, the narcissistic digimon smiled and sighed. "It is the most powerful jewel in all the Digital World – it's like our diamond, but cooler, rarer, and stronger. Such a thing that only the strongest of Rosemon can protect. The thing is that it isn't hard to break, though it gives those who wear it a massive amount of energy, youth, and beauty. If one breaks a Tifaret, it's said that a curse will be cast upon you."

"Ooo..."

"My Tifaret is my most precious possession...

"If I were to lose it...  
"Break it..."

Again, silence filled the room.

Rosemon did not speak to him again for the rest of the day, no matter how much he pestered her.

**.+.**

One night, it happened quickly.

A few whispers cooed into her ear as her eyes remained shut. Quietly sleeping, she could hear them. Hear the whispers of the one who protected her, the one who cared for her, the one she cared for, her best friend. Her best, most _precious_ friend. Her guardian angel.

**(**_We are one..._**)**

**(**_We will always be one..._**)**

But this time, it was not only Nikkou who heard the whispers of Matadormon, but also a woman with tamed sandy blonde hair standing at the doorframe of her children's bedroom. Watching Matadormon with half-lidded eyes, she swallowed, sighed, and knocked on the wooden side of their mahogany door.

Matadormon jumped.

Looked up.

Saw her.

Her eyes narrowed.

Matadormon and she locked stares for what felt like not just one eternity (_no, no, that is such a short _miniscule_ amount of time_), but two eternities; locked not only in stares, but in a silent battle between them, a battle for not only control, but the safety of someone they both cared about deeply: Nikkou. It didn't take long before Matadormon stood at full height and Jia took a step back, her eyes widening.

Those beautiful, reddish-brown eyes, so wide, filled not with fear, but surprise – surprise and anger.

"Heh, heh..."

Matadormon brought his index finger to his chin.

"Heh, heh, _heh..."_

The corner of his lip curled and he grinned.

"You don't... neither of you do..." he muttered, eyes widening; glistening. Jia opened her mouth to speak, but Matadormon cut her off with a snicker. "You don't have her eyes."

Jia's eyes brightened, but she didn't have enough time to reply. There was never enough time.

"Hello there..."

He took a step forward.

"..._Grandmother..."_


	8. Session Six PART TWO: Belphemon

**_The Demon Chronicles_**

"_And you don't seem to understand  
A shame you seemed an honest man  
And all the fears you hold so dear  
Will turn to whisper in your ear"_

—Boa Kwon

"_Feeling inconstant could drive me insane.  
Flesh to blood to bone to love.  
Twisted.  
And I know, yes I know, but is this _real_?"_

—Lisa Hall

**Disclaimer:** I am absolutely not making profit off of this fanfic—any infringement is not intended and never will be.  
**Rating:** PG-13 / T  
**Genre/s:** Adventure, Action, Drama, Romance, Tragedy, Horror  
**Currently Listening To:** "Is This Real?" by Lisa Hall.  
**Description: **Everyone has secrets, even the Demon Lords. Told in eight sessions, we learn the Scourge of the Digi-Underworld's pasts, what brought them together, and the viciousness of their great founder.  
**Author's Note:** GuitarDude Two-One-Five mentioned a very important detail. He wants to relate the sin of sloth to Session Six – which is a good idea and everything, of course... But if you wish to connect the dots, you'll find very few hints of sloth sprinkled here and there in Part Two, though if you remember Belphemon's _second_—"aspect"—then you will find plenty of connecting in Part Two. Also, if you wish to reread Part One, I hinted very subtly of sloth there as well, though it's hard to catch on the first read. :)

_**The Demon Chronicles**_  
**Session Six: PART TWO  
****.Belphemon.**

He was sleeping.

Dreaming.

Picturing the world spinning in the middle of no where, surrounded by silver studs. They were bright, like specks of shine. Always something to excite him. To make him smile. However...

That world, once bright green and blue, was soon made to dust, fallen to ashes at his feet.

The world turned red.

_Red._

**Drp, drp.**

He didn't want to wake up.

_**Drp, drp.**_

_Go away._

_**Drp, dr—**_"**Kaaaaikaaaatsuuuu**..."

Mom.

Wake up.

_Kaaaaaikaaaaatsuuuu_

WAKE UP.

**DRP DRP**

_**Kaikatsu**_

**DRPDRP**

- . **AWAKEN** . -

He woke up.

**.+.**

Blood – thick and deep red.

The smell of copper and rust, the putrid odor of red.

**Drp, drp.**

Drops of red pitter-pattered against the snowy ground like rain.

**Drp, drp. Drp, drp.**

Mother.

Mother.

_Mother._

**Drp. Drp.**

-_She's gone, KK my boy, she is _gone-

-_What was it like, KK my boy, huh, what was it like?-_

_-WHAT IS IT LIKE TO LOSE HER LIKE YOU LOST YOUR FATHER?-_

It was everywhere. Staining the side of the house, pouring across the snow, tainting that beautiful white such a violent shade of red. It was snowing. _Snowing._ White fell around them like shards of Heaven, the sky's tears – could the sky cry? Were the heavens crying for them at that moment?

Kaikatsu... Nikkou... Matadormon and Rosemon...

This was the night.

The night of

**LEGEND**

The night their lives once again changed forever, and they would never be able to go back to the way things once were. Bitter cold withered away the green leaves on the trees, turned them bare and skeletal, a night of which had covered the grass and the intricate garden in snow; all that hard work their mother put in to make that garden as beautiful as it had been was wasted.

"_Give them time to grow,"_ she told the twins one day. They knew that if Dad were still alive, he would have been proud of her. _"Someday, they'll be beautiful and lively. Just let them grow." _

Little flowers, covered in white, never again to see the light of day. Never again to feel the warmth of summer, or watch as life rose from the decay of winter in the spring. Everything died in the cold.

That night froze plains and valleys, rivers and dreams. That night seemed to freeze time itself. This was how they'd recall the night of legend, and every other frozen winter night after that...

Every single frozen winter night of legend in which blood stained the snow...

In which a half-angel half-demon ripped apart his greatest friends and allies he called brothers and mother with a bloody axe. They say he began the two greatest rebellions of all, died twice, and was sealed away for hundreds of years—until he was freed by the Darkest Beast. He wanted to gain respect, to gain love, to gain trust, to gain _**PRIDE**_...

In which one brother wrought the world with blood as he tried to claim the title as Demon Lord, but ended up gaining the title as Chosen. He wanted to avenge the Darkest Beast's sorrow for the girl taken from him, but in the end, his betrayal was for nothing as his own brother took his revenge and his title from him. It was his brother who wreaked havoc across several realms, plagued the dreams and heart of Ken Ichijouji, fought against the great Yagami Taichi in several realms, was reborn several times, and _continued_ to herald death and destruction with his heart full of _**WRATH**_...

In which one man set out to protect a girl but ended up murdering her. He never thought it would be his hands stained, but he wanted her. Only her. _All_ of her. In a past life, he'd strived to rule a whole Digital World filled with Tamers ripe for the killing, one of which was named Tsurugi. He tried to let go of his past life, to let _her_ go when she fell in love with another, but his heart was already too full of _**GREED**_...

In which a creature gained the power of legions as he called out for a friend he would never see again; a friend, his only friend, who would play chess with him and talk to him and help him. One day, that friend made many, many friends, and the creature remained alone, surrounded by only minions and a world filled with nothing but emptiness. He wanted to fill that world with something, fill it with light, but his heart was already filled with only darkness and _**ENVY**_...

In which a man forgot the four names who brought him glory, who brought him love, who brought him affection and friendship. He'd wanted to get stronger. He'd wanted to have _POWER_. He was so hungry. So terribly hungry. Only data filled that hunger, but when he'd gotten the love and affection of those four others, that hunger died away – at least until their names faded like pictures from his mind, and he was left with nothing but himself and his gun. The Darkest Beast told him to _use_ that gun, for only blood could sate his empty chest, and so thus the hunger pangs began again. His chest, his heart, his soul – carrying within him only _**GLUTTONY**_...

In which a woman went to lengths she thought she never would to protect someone. Her heart, her sense of right and wrong, her body – all of it, thrown to the wolves to find and retrieve the one she lost. The one she lost, as well as the one beautiful soul she'd given away. She'd made many mistakes, oh yes, because after the twisted game the Darkest Beast made for her, she was full of only blood_**LUST**_...

In which the Darkest Beast first began his trail of blood, woe, and loss, as he ascended into a body containing more than just his own thoughts. The Darkest Beast would summon the first Demon Lord, the first one he could play with, someone he never thought he would play with, someone who _broke, _someone who had lost and lost and lost and was so _sick_ of losing, someone who, like a time bomb, was filled with boiling _**RAGE**_ and such youthful _**SLOTH**_...

In which a woman laid face-down in the snow, hair like bronze turned to a red hue, fingers digging deep into the icy white snow. Silently, stiffly, she lied there, and as her two children watched her silently lay, they wondered if she would ever stand again. She must've run away from him when he tried to slash her - made an effort to get him away from her kids by going out into the cold, screaming for help. But they lived out in the middle of no where. Her voice went raw for no reason at all. They wondered - did she know running from him was a waste of effort?

The two kept telling themselves that she was going to stand back up and laugh. It was just fake blood everywhere, right? Just fake blood staining everything; just ketchup or corn syrup or _something,_ but not real blood. And that tendon twitching in her left arm, skin peeled almost from bone? Just a small accident. No big deal. It'd heal in one or two weeks, guaranteed.

No.

Who were they kidding themselves?

Jia Shitsugen would _never_ stand again.

-_How does it feel KK my boy? Huh, how does it_

- ... **FEEL **... _-_

"Haha..." Kaikatsu's hands were shaking. Shaking not from the cold as he stared at her blue-lipped corpse, but shaking out of _anger._ His face was beet red, fists clenched so tight his knuckles were white, nails digging into his palm so far he could have drawn blood. He wanted to draw blood. He _wanted_ to. For the first time, he felt everything within him bursting. He was (SN—SN—SN—_SNAAAAAAAAP_**PING**). "Hahaha_ha_..."

"KK?" Nikkou said quietly, eyes widening slightly. She reached out to grab his shoulder, but feeling her warm hand grab him only made him spring up, showing Matadormon and Rosemon his clenched teeth, his wide bright eyes, his white knuckles.

Only made him scream in a voice raw and hoarse, like a wild animal about to—"Kill... I'm... I'm going to _**KILL HIM**_, Nikkou."

_**Drp**_,_** drp**_, came the sound of blood dripping from Matadormon's bladed fingers.

The blood of Jia Shitsugen.

Their mother's blood.

_**MOM'S BLOOD.**_

"ARRRRGH!"

He lunged.

Had no idea what he was doing.

He didn't CARE what he was doing.

"KK!" Nikkou shouted, but he was deaf. Deaf to everything around him but the whistle of his fist soaring through the bitter air, but the feel of his muscles rippling, but the feel and the joy and the relief he felt swinging that fist forward as if he were the great Heracles; he was even deaf to the sound of flesh meeting flesh. Instead of hitting Matadormon – he'd launched a fist right into the shoulder of Rosemon, who, after standing in front of Matadormon, pulled her lip back in a sneer.

So cold, that expression. Suddenly, it was not only winter chilling him to the bone.

Then he felt a pair of warm hands wrap around his arm. When he looked down, it was Nikkou's gentle expression he saw, those bright innocent eyes; that grip which resembled their father's – always so tender, so soft, so warm. She had a face he could stare at forever; a grip he could let last forever. Yet, there was something odd about his twin sister, as well as her hugs, her smiles, her eyes... Kaikatsu never knew what, but now that both their mother and father were dead, he guessed he would never find out what that something-off was.

"It... must have been an accident..." Nikkou whispered. "Matadormon wouldn't ever do something like this... he's... not a _murderer,_ KK."

"Well I find that very hard to believe," he spat in response. Suddenly, all that anger and woe boiled over again and he didn't _care_ about that warmth, he didn't _care_ about that look in her eyes, he just plain _didn't care!_ "Look at it! Look at it, Nikkou! Her blood – everywhere! Staining his blades! His face! HIS CLOTHES! He meant to do this! He WANTED to do this! Mom... _Mom_ was the only one we had left and we let her die! If I weren't always too busy sleeping and playing video games and—and _dammit_, what have I been doing all this time!"

"Please—KK!"

"You wanted us to never be lonely again, but you just let that – _creature_ – kill the very last person who would never leave us alone! _Let go of me_!"

Wrenching her away from him, leaving that warmth behind, he again flung his fist forward, not _caring_ if he hit Rosemon, not _caring_ if Nikkou grabbed his arm, _not caring about anything._ Anything at all. As that fist sailed, pictures went through his mind, old and worn; pictures that flickered and fluttered and fell with the snow around them.

His mother's smile as she held him to the sky.

His father tossing him a baseball.

Nikkou getting up from her place at the computer to hug _him_ – not him hug her, but her hug _him,_ such a rare, beautiful memory.

Then there was darkness.

In the darkness, he saw and heard other things – things he didn't want to see and hear.

A sleepy driver. A steering wheel being wrenched right. The screech of tires as skid marks formed on concrete; as windshields and windows _crk-crk-CRACKED,_ and glass sputtered around two figures, landing on the ground with high-pitched clatters.

A pair of five blades – connected to hands, to pink-sleeved arms, to a red mantle and a face, a face he knew only to be Matadormon's – falling. Blood splashed. Hit the snow. Hit the house. Hit the garden. Five blades rose. Fell. _**SPLASH.**_ Rose. Fell. _**SPLASH.**_ Rose, fell...

Nikkou's hug grew cold. He looked at her, but when he looked, she'd faded.

And then darkness covered him again.

Crk

His eyes widened.

That sound again.

crk crk crk

But this time, it wasn't windshields and windows cracking and shattering. This time, it was something else. Something smaller, something more valuable, something that caused Rosemon to painfully reel back away from him, taking in a sharp breath as she began to reach up. But her hands stopped midway, hesitant and shocked at first.

_crk!_

A jewel... the color of roses... fell to his feet.

Crushed.

Pieces scattered everywhere around him.

Blood, though not enough to fall, formed at his white knuckles.

"My... Tifaret..." Rosemon's hands were shaking as she raised them to where the jewel was – where it had once been. Her bottom lip trembling, eyes wide beneath the rose helmet atop her head, she grabbed her chest and bit back tears. "My..."

Kaikatsu's eyes widened.

-_See what it does to you, KK my boy?_-

-_See what _

**RAGE **

_does to you?_-

"Rosemon... I..." His hand lowered. He felt something within his chest tighten – remembering the words she'd said to him just a day beforehand: _"My Tifaret is my most precious possession... If I were to lose it... Break it..."_

Suddenly, a cry pierced through the arctic night. Hearing that scream made Kaikatsu's chest not just tighten, but instantly clench as if it were about to fall apart, blood and bone and heart and all. When he looked away from his thoughts and back to the reality surrounding him, he saw the cry had come from Rosemon, who grabbed where the Tifaret once was with tears falling from her cheeks.

"_You..."_ she growled, shaking. "I told you... I _told_ you... I _trusted_ you..."

"Rosemon, I—!"

"Quiet!" With an echoing _fwump,_ Kaikatsu flew back beside his dead mother's body, eyes wide as he stared up at Rosemon. She'd... hit him. Just smacked him so hard he hit the icy snow as if it were rock-hard ground; so hard he winced and grabbed his arm.

He wanted to stand up.

Hit Rosemon back.

She was a big girl. She was a _digimon._

But... at the same time...

He'd been the stupid one. He was the one who tore away from his sister in order to get in one silly hit that probably wouldn't have hurt the guy anyway. He was the one who didn't look where he was punching. He was the one who made the worst mistake he ever would in his whole entire life - breaking the Tifaret. All Rosemon was trying to do was be a peacemaker, even knowing that Matadormon didn't need her protection, _especially_ against a weak human like Kaikatsu.

Then, realizing everything, having it hit him like a ton of bricks, having it weigh on him as if the world were on his shoulders, he reached forward and clung to Jia. She was dead. Gone. And there was nothing he could do about it except rest his head against her shoulder, even if those arms could never warmly embrace him back.

"Mother... _Mom..._"

Rosemon watched the sight with an apathetic gaze.

Then something in her expression changed.

Instead, her ruby-red lips curled – curled and formed a grin.

Then, speaking in a low sultry voice, she bent down and whispered hoarsely in his ear, "You remember what _else_ I told you, don't you, you filthy human? About the curse?"

_-You remember-_

_-Oh yes, my dear KK, you remember quite well-_

Suddenly, Rosemon began coughing and hacking, grabbing her stomach as her knees wobbled beneath her. She – couldn't hold her own weight – not anymore—

"I – don't have much more time before – _ugh."_ Choking, Rosemon grabbed her chest, eyes narrowed as she stared disgustedly at Kaikatsu, expression in a snarl. Malignantly, she hissed, "Soon, this body will shrivel and wither away. But at least I can see your punishment before then, '_**KK**__'._"

"'Punishment'?" Swiftly, Nikkou rushed forward to hug Kaikatsu around the shoulders, eyes narrowed as she glared at Rosemon. "He doesn't deserve punishment, Rosemon! It was an accident! I created you to protect him, not punish him!"

"Sometimes, protection IS punishment," Rosemon snarled, the rose atop her head beginning to brown, then gray, then wilt. Her thorn whip rotted in her grasp, falling to the snow in glowing cinders. Her red leather bubbled and spread, sinking deep into her flesh as her whole body began seering with boiling flesh and sores. With a shrill scream, Rosemon threw her head back and watched as red turned to brown, black faded away, and hair once so young and thick turned thin and frail.

Nikkou winced and looked away from her creation, squeezing her eyes shut. "Rosemon... what's happening to you?"

Kaikatsu watched in horror, eyes wide and stark white, goosebumps forming on his arms and legs.

Tears stinging Rosemon's eyes, she weakly said, "I'm... becoming... _her..._"

Wrinkles creased her arms and hands, the rose fell away, her blonde hair turned gray, her height shortened as her back weakened and bent into a hunch. Shaking, trembling, Rosemon cried out, red data rising around her, red as blood, red as her lips, red as how that rose once was before its petals fell to the ground around her.

Watching her transformation, Kaikatsu cried out, both for her and himself as darkness suddenly sunk in.

_Kaaaaikaaaatsuuuu..._

His eyes widened.

"That voice..." he whispered. Rosemon – was it Rosemon still? – fell to her knees in front of him, expression in a daze. Nikkou hadn't even heard him at first, though once he spoke Matadormon instantly tore his gaze toward the boy.

_Kaikatsu._

At the corner of his eye, the shadows shifted.

_Let's play, Kaikatsu. Let's play the game you saw in your dream._

"I don't want to hear this," he said, grabbing his temples as he bowed his head, his whole body shivering. The shadows neared him, one hand reaching out to grab him by the hair. "Get away. Just – get away from me—"

"KK?" Nikkou looked away from Rosemon to Kaikatsu, eyes widening as his skin, too, began to bubble and boil.

_LET'S_

**TURN**

THE WORLD

_**RED**_

Ripping. The shadows were... RIPPING... TEARING... SHREDDING... GRABBING HIM AND HOLDING HIM... at the corners of his sight, those shadows were covering him, covering him, screaming _shrilly,_ just as Rosemon, just as the dying screams of his mother, just as the tires of his father's car. Just as everything – EVERYTHING – around him began to fade to black.

_**THE WORLD WILL BE DUST AND ASHES IN OUR HANDS, KAIKATSU**_

The shadows lunged.

Matadormon's lips _curled._

_Grinned._

Kaikatsu _screamed._

"No... get off of me... Get away – GET AWAY." One of his hands latched onto his mother's shoulder, his other embracing a horrified Nikkou as if to protect her. Crying, she buried her face in the crook of his neck, but it was too late. The shadows were consuming him. All of him. They wanted the world. They wanted dust. They wanted _ash._ "I – can't – _**feel**__..._"

He was going numb.

Everything was fading.

As Rosemon – data floating around her – stared at him, her lips curled just as Matadormon's had.

She laughed.

Laughed as her transformation scarred her, tore her, made her not _Rosemon,_ necessarily, but a whole other species altogether. Still alive but different (so very, _very_ different), Rosemon laughed, laughed and cried, as her beauty melted away.

Replaced by age. Replaced by

._Babamon_.

Rosemon had become... _Babamon_.

And staring at her transformation, Kaikatsu bit back tears as the darkness swallowed him whole.

**.+.**

For a while, he was immersed in that darkness, so numb he couldn't move. Pain wracked his temples and his chest, sides burning as his body felt like he'd been thrown into a furnace. Curled into a fetal position, shadows pulled at him.

He couldn't scream. Couldn't cry. Couldn't do anything but feel anger – _their_ anger. _Their_ rage.

Within that darkness echoed Rosemon's voice. Quietly, yet so deeply it seemed to shake the very foundation of this darkness, she whispered in his ear, "The Curse of the Tifaret... Do you know what that curse - that penalty - that sorrow - is, stone-breaker?"

He was shaking. Trembling.

He didn't know anything.

He heard Rosemon titter; heard as her voice echoed like a god within his mind. A god - powerful and omnipotent in every aspect, perfectly firm and refined. A deep voice, riveting with energy like the crackle of lightning, but as booming as thunder.

* * *

**The curse...**

**Hahaha...**

_**Just Sleep.**_

_**Sleep it aaaaall away...**_

**Sleep, my dear, my brave, my beautiful Shitsugen Kaikatsu...  
****For when a millennium has gone by and you awaken...  
****It will not be your reflection you see.**

**Look into the water, KK.**

**You will not see KK anywhere.**

* * *

He didn't understand it at first – sounded like a bunch of gibberish to him, because he was human...

A puny human.

No omnipotence, no power, not even enough strength to save his mother or to get out of bed in time to at least _try_ to save her. He probably had no future at all.

How could he understand any of this?

Was any of this even real?

He just wanted to be left alone. To live a good life. To grow up... grow up, and be a great man like his father was.

But no, dear, brave, beautiful Kaikatsu...

He would

Never

Be

Like His Father

.

**drp**,** drp**

What was that sound?

Like...

**drp  
drp**

...water...

Time passed.

Wake up.

It felt like only a few seconds.

_Wake up._

Just a few listless, horrifying seconds.

- . **AWAKEN** . -

But then, when Kaikatsu found the strength to open his eyes once more and stare forth at the world around him, he saw only a desert. Golden-brown grains of sand swept up in the wind surrounding him, billowing in his hair; he felt the hot, sticky breeze, and narrowed his eyes.

How... odd. To put it lightly.

He took a few steps forward into the desert, dazed and wondering where his home was, where his sister was, where Rosemon and Matadormon was, the corpse of his mother and the snow - where'd it all go? Disappeared... just... vanished.

That was when he noticed his foot was wet. Wet...? In a desert? And to top it off, all around him were little pools of water and... blood? _Blood?_ Whose blood? His? No... he wasn't injured. There weren't any bodies around, either. Yet there he was, standing in a pool of it, and he just couldn't help but think - Wonderful! Blood! Water! GREAT! JUST the thing he wanted to see! This was stupendous, his _marvelous_ situation!

Actually, he didn't care anymore.

Didn't care about _anything_ anymore.

**Look into the water, KK...**

His reflection...

**Look...**

**deep**

The behemoth moved forward, reaching toward it with a trembling hand. He wanted to make sure. Wanted to be absolutely positively sure. Those words – his reflection – he wanted to confirm them.

He looked deep into the rippling water; deep into the reflection he saw there.

"**You will see..."**

His eyes – not amber, never amber, now red, _red_ – widened and stared deep into not his gaze, but he... himself.

He didn't see Kaikatsu in the water.

He saw

" ...** Belphemon **... "

The Belphegor Creature

**.+.**

A thousand years ago, a girl cried out as her friend fell limp in her arms. With his eyes closed, a tear – his last tear – fell from the corner of his eye. She knew he wasn't dead – his warmth contradicted all too well the coldness of their mother's cadaver – but she still felt that loneliness. That fear. That realization.

He was gone.

_Gone._

And she could do nothing but hold him and watch as her _other_ friend – once a Rosemon, now an old hag – turned up her nose and headed back to the house. Burying her face in the crook of her friend's neck, only one could hear her muffled cries, and that was a digimon with a red mantle and blades for fingers.

One of those hands rested on her shoulder.

The blades clinked together, just a small _clk-clk-clk._

Her teeth clenched.

**(**_Let's go, Nikkou..._**)**

**(**_Let's go back... to that other world..._**)**

**(**_And I promise... I will keep your friend safe..._**)**

**(**_Lock him up in a tower surrounded by a barren desert..._**)  
****(**_Just long enough until Sleeping Handsome awakens from his millennium-long sleep._**)  
(**_He will be... _very_ safe..._**)**

"KK..." she whispered, quivering as she held him in her grasp.

**(**..._We will _all_ be safe..._**)**

"Yes... yes, Matadormon," she whispered hoarsely through clenched teeth, cheeks tearstained and hands balled into fists. Rising from her spot, eyes falling half-lidded, she hissed, "Let's go to the Digital World."

That was the night

The snow stopped falling

And Matadormon became

* * *

- . GranDracmon . -

* * *

Nikkou – _**Yggdrasil**_ – headed back into the house, covered in blood and snow. Watching the computer screen flicker its bright light, her lips twitched. Matadormon stood behind her, head tilted to the side in wonder.

**(**_Our hearts..._**)**

She held up a hand to silence him, to which he immediately went dead quiet. Those lips of hers twitched again; twitched and... curled. Curled and cracked into a grin that reminded GranDracmon so fondly of a scarecrow almost. Stitched and scarred and broken; and oh so, _so_ amused.

"Our hearts... Our minds..." she said, lying her palm flat on the computer screen. Bright eyes dulling, she even chuckled softly, watching Matadormon's reflection on the computer screen; watching him as he shuddered. Curled lips twisting even more, she sunk her hand into the screen as if it were water to the touch. The screen glinted against her gray-purple eyes.

"..._Are One_..."


	9. At Last, Session Seven: Lilithmon

Ladies and Gents, tonight we present to you...

**_THE DEMON CHRONICLES_**

The mighty, the infamous, the sinister and chaotic pasts of the one and only _Seven Great Demon Lords_

Never again will any of them be the same

Never Again

"_Pretending he's a teacher  
Holding all my weight at ease  
Yet the teacher seems to split in two  
Destroying both his knees"_

—Blue October

**Disclaimer:** I am absolutely not making profit off of this fanfic—any infringement is not intended and never will be.  
**Rating:** PG-13 / T  
**Genre/s:** Adventure, Action, Drama, Romance, Tragedy, Horror  
**Currently Listening To:** "Drilled A Wire Through My Cheek" by Blue October.  
**Description:** Everyone has secrets, even the Demon Lords. Told in eight sessions, we learn the Scourge of the Digi-Underworld's pasts, what brought them together, and the viciousness of their great founder.  
**Author's Note: **Welcome to the last Demon Lord's chronicle. Please have a fun ride and remember to wear your seatbelts - and if you're interested, take a look at The Demon Chronicles soundtrack on my profile! It will guide you to all songs and lyrics on a digital magic carpet ride.

So, without further adieu, here it is: the last chronicle before we embark on the final four-part session.

_**The Demon Chronicles**_

_"There is no clarity. Everything swirls. The old rules are no longer binding, the old truths no longer true. Right spills over into wrong. Order blends into chaos, love into hate, ugliness into beauty, law into anarchy, civility into savagery."_

—Tim O'Brien

**Session Seven  
****.Lilithmon.**

_Ker-thump, ker-thump, ker-thump_

_**Gaaaah  
**__**Toooooh  
**__**muuuhn**_

Darkness.

A deep, listless darkness.

Swallowing her, consuming her, blurring all her senses – her sight, her hearing, her sense of smell, taste, feel...

All of it...

Vanished within a second.

_**Gaaaatooooomoooon**_

Pain.

Sharp.

A sting that traveled up her spine to her temples, like someone brought a knife to the top of her head and cracked it open like a watermelon. She winced, yet, when she winced, she couldn't feel it, couldn't feel anything at all – couldn't feel her muscles move, or stiffen, or pause. Couldn't feel her eyelids squeeze shut, or watch as light became dark (_stretched so far, so far away, that darkness stretched like that abyss the abyss she'd stared into her whole entire life the abyss that stared back)_.

There was no light in that stretching darkness; darkness that rose above her like a wave and descended upon her, consuming her in one swoop like the jaws of a ravenous wolf.

_**Ga**_

At least until a hand reached out

_**To**_

The hand of her partner, the girl she loved most, loved above all

_**Mon**_

Yagami Hikari

_**Gatomon**_

Chosen of Light

Then, just like that, just as she reached out her hand to take the small human girl's, both of them were swallowed in the shadows of hatred and despair. All of it – the world, the fright, the worries of everyday life – _faded,_ and she was left alone. Alone to weep, to wonder, to _avenge_.

Gatomon.

Gaaatooomoooon.

_**Lil  
**__**Ith  
**__**Mon**_

Demon of Lust

Lust for blood, and the lust that reached and grabbed and held, melded with blood, flesh, bone; melded and fused and waited, waited to create something else...

Some_one_ else...

_Ker-thump, ker-thump, ker-thump,_ her heart said. _Ker-thump, ker-thump, ker—_

"Gatomon."

A man's voice – or, rather, a digimon's voice.

"Gatomon, take my hand."

A hand. Pale, blue-tinted, yet reaching out through the darkness to take her – take her and hold her and tell her that never again would the darkness consume her. He would take care of her. Always take care of her.

**(**_Yes, Gatomon..._**)**

_**THUMP**_

**(**_...Take his hand..._**)**

She took his hand, and the pain...

_**KER-THUMP**_, _**KER-THUMP**_,_** KER-THUMP**_

...Oh baby, that pain STOPPED...

**.+.**

_**CRUNCH**_

Her hand lanced through the digimon's chest, blood spraying the air like dust particles. The digimon, blond hair beginning to taint red, winced and pulled away from her, attempting to lunge through a window. However, with a sneer, she grabbed him by the ruff of his shirt and shoved him against a wall.

He tilted his head to the side, eyes half-lidded – pulled his lip back in a toothy snarl, showing his bloodstained fangs, clenched as he let out a draconic hiss. At the sound, she merely grinned, leaned toward him, and watched the light dull within his eyes. The light within hers had faded long before then.

"**Myotismon**."

Her voice was firm, deep, sultry. It caught his full attention within seconds, his muscles tensing as she pinned his palms to the wall behind him with her claws. Nails bit into pale flesh, causing him to slightly grimace.

This was it.

This was him.

This was her revenge for so long ago.

Bit by bit, she watched the colors of the dawn blur and coincide. She watched as the colors then faded into navy blue and black, illuminated only by the silver glow of the moon and the stars. She watched for so long as those colors blurred and faded, never knowing when the silver glow would fall upon her as it did when she was younger.

She'd _let_ those colors blur to save _her._ To save her, the one she'd searched for all her life, the one who let the pieces fall across the chessboard as they may. She'd not touched a single piece to play, yet all of them resided around her. Yagami Hikari was not the queen.

She was the king.

And _her partner_, oh yes darling yes, was the queen, always by Yagami Hikari's side, _always_, to protect her and defend her. All the pieces were lined up. Lined up and ready to be played. And so she wondered:

Had Myotismon any idea whose claws pierced him right at that second?

Did he know?

Then, as if reading her thoughts, those snarling lips curled. Curled, and he was left to lean forward, let his forehead gently rest against her shoulder as she pinned him to the wall. Through clenched fangs, he said, "I know... who you are... Who you _were..._ You might have been a good little kitty then, but that's not who you are now, is it?"

Panting, she hissed and released him, allowing his feet to touch the ground before her arm made another sweeping motion and pinned him to a table. Voice still strong and unrelenting, she growled, "Then you know what I _want_."

Myotismon's eyes narrowed.

He hesitated.

Then, beads of sweat forming above his temples, he swallowed, staring deep into those dark eyes of hers. Such a dark beauty those eyes held, able to entrance even the most loyal of men. Myotismon, who wasn't loyal at all, was no different. He was swine now compared to her.

"I do," he replied. His voice was calmer than hers – his disposition one of peaceful thought and unity – graceful and refined. It made her sick to her stomach. But then again, Myotismon _always_ made her sick to her stomach. Now he had no control over her, though, now he could _never_ have control over her. That grin he held. That note of seduction he carried within his voice. Every single elegant and perfect nuance about him would no longer affect her _ever_ again. She listened to him keenly as he continued, "But I want something, as well."

"Of course," she hissed.

_**CRUNCH**_

With a titter, she picked him up off the table and – _**WHAM**_ – slammed him back down. He choked, limbs moving as if he were a frail rag doll in her grasp. In truth, comparing his strength to hers, that's exactly what he was – just a meek, worthless doll for her fingers to control. Her strings extended everywhere – even to the Lilymon waitress who gasped a few feet away from them. She quickly ran out of the room before more destruction ensued, fearing the worst of two demonic warlords meeting in Bernie's Bar.

"I think you fail at comprehension, _Master,_" Lilithmon hissed. "I don't _care_ what _**you**_ want. What _you_ want doesn't _matter._ _**You**_ don't matter."

Her clench around his throat tightened.

"Oh?" Myotismon's lips curled higher. He reached forward to grip one of her hands around his throat, fangs glinting in the dim pub light. "...I don't matter, yet I am the only one who can give you his position."

She wanted to wipe that smirk off his face so badly. Heh, she wanted to wipe that _face_ off his face so badly.

She could've.

Easily.

"Stop grinning," she said, eyes falling half-lidded. "You look even more like a freak."

"I'm just amused, Gatomon," Myotismon said. "If it weren't for me, you would've never even met her. Would've never met the Chosen of Light. Would've stayed a _pathetic_ creature wandering the Digital World – always searching. Always _looking._ Isn't that how you found Wizardmon? You poor creature. I can see it—"

Lilithmon's muscles tensed.

She could feel her throat tighten.

"—'_Wizardmon, oh, Wizardmon!'_" he mocked. "How pathetically cute, you two bonding over such codependent things."

"...'Codependent'?"

She bowed her head, darkness obscuring her expression. Her grip tightened more on his neck, but as a vampire king, he obviously couldn't care less. Who needed air when you would just be reborn anyway? Over, and over, and over again. Life never stopped for a digimon. Sometimes you remembered your past life or _lives, _and sometimes...

You don't.

Myotismon did.

He did very well.

And Lilithmon knew that.

"Aw, what's wrong?" Myotismon said, gripping her wrist tautly. "_Does it hurt to hear his name?_"

Again, with a resounding _crunch!_, she slammed his back into the table. Another splatter. Another _**gsh**_, and he choked on his words as he tried to say them. She reached for his face with one of her hands – a hand that sizzled and popped with searing energy, that grappled and burned his flesh as she grabbed him by the chin. Myotismon hissed and tried to move his face away, but it was too late.

That smell.

Decay... and rotting meat.

Her arm—it belonged to the cadavers, deep within the soil.

"Trash..." she uttered.

Myotismon, face in a half-wince, said, "...What was that?"

_**CRUNCH**_

He threw his head back in a silent scream as her arm slid through his chest – putting a hole into the table beneath him – as if he were butter. Pain traveled up her arm to her elbow, and from her elbow to her head. Again, there was that sharp pain, like pins and needles to her temple. But that didn't matter now. All that mattered was getting her – getting _them_ – back.

Feeling her arm pierce him felt so good she actually _did_ scream.

(_I hope you like fishing, Gatomon..._)

"Trash..." she repeated through clenched teeth, gaze darkening as her throat tightened. Muscles tightened. The air around her tightened.

(Y_ou are going to be the perfect bait to lure out the eighth Digi Destined child._)

"You're trash, Myotismon," Lilithmon hissed, eyes narrowed into a solemn glare. "Pathetic creature. Compared to me now, you are less than _cannon fodder_. Tell me—why would you think I would give you ANYTHING?"

Hand still through his chest (and the table), she threw him across the room. With a sickening _snap,_ his back crunched against the bar counter. She grinned and, flicking her wrist while one-handedly _crk-crk-_cracking her knuckles, she said, "Today's just not your day, Vampire King. I'll slice you up, bit by bit, and hang you to dry. Tell me..."

The Demon Lord of Lust tittered, tilting her head to the side, as Myotismon coughed and bent over, grasping the tiled floor as he began to vomit blood.

"What do you think of jerky?" she cooed, hands gripping into fists. He stared blankly at the floor with narrowed eyes – eyes that she smiled at as if he were nothing. Nothing at all. With a hum, she continued, "Silly question, I know, but it's a very important one because... I've been thinking..."

Fingernails digging into the flooring, he slowly brought his glare to the seductress, fangs clenched. Ooo, _how intimidating,_ Mr. Myotismon! Anyone would be scared by that sharp glare, except Lilithmon wasn't intimidated in the least. No, not even the great and mighty and widely-feared Myotismon could make her shudder.

"I think jerky is very amusing... the way you cut the meat, smoke it, watch all that blood and all that oil just - dry up," she whispered, eyes lighting up, shimmering, brighter than they'd been in a long time. "...But I think I would enjoy making my own kind of jerky. I think... I'd like to test out my abilities. So, Myotismon, will you help me out a bit? Tell me... which one should it be?"

He couldn't intimidate her anymore. Never again.

"Which limb...?" Again, she tittered, body shifting so that she leaned above his nearly limp figure. Her laughing expression brought a surprised look to his eye, a surprised look that faded as soon as her laughing stopped – stopped and became nothing but a deep, dark silence. A glare. "Which limb will be the first to go, Myotismon?"

He didn't answer.

Instead, he looked her in the eye and gave nothing but a growl – a deep, malignant growl.

"So this is you now, Gatomon?" he whispered, eyes slanting as he began to stand, holding his wounds. She could tell he was holding back – normally by now, Myotismon would fight back, no matter the enemy. He'd call his army. Everyone. Granted, they'd all die by Lilithmon's hands before they could get within even a few yards of this place, but Myotismon would've tried regardless. But... she knew... Myotismon was a prideful digimon, and he wanted to settle this with her mon-to-mon. Either that or he'd gone completely nuts. After all, she used to be his wonderful and best servant – now she was going to kill him. And neither doubted that fact one bit. Regardless, he continued, "Killing, maiming, cruelty... I thought you abandoned me to get away from bloodshed. Yet you get some power and you've become **just ****like ****me**."

Lilithmon suddenly paused.

Clenched her fists.

"Are you doing this to find Hikari, dear?" Myotismon said, blood falling from the corner of his lips. "Or... could it be... because of Angewomon?"

Ange...

womon...

She snapped.

At the sound of that name – that four-syllable word – **AN**_ GE_ WO _**MON**_ – her fist sailed through the air and plunged into the bar counter as Myotismon completely evaded her attack. Then, in a swift reverse of events, he grabbed her by the arm and snapped it against her own spine, bending her backwards as he leaned forward and—

Bit her.

_He bit her neck._

She went numb.

Completely numb.

In all her days, even when she was a Gatomon serving under him, he'd never bitten _her._ He'd never needed to, because he liked human girls, or even sometimes LadyDevimon if she were up to it. Gatomon was his best warrior. He didn't want to weaken her.

But now he didn't care.

He just wanted the blood.

"Myotismon..." she hissed. "_Disgusting_."

He held her in place, wrapping his arms around her back, pushing her into him, his chest against her own, his blood mixing with hers. Something within her – the darkness within her soul, the darkness GranDracmon had given her three years ago – stirred. It stirred and laughed and tittered, and enjoyed feeling those fangs bite deep into her flesh.

She weakened, breathing in deep, breathing in the scent of copper and his own smell of cologne and alcohol. With delicate hands, Lilithmon reached forward one hand to rest against his back, the other against his head.

Stimulating.

That bite...

Absolutely...

_**Stimulating**_.

_No._

There was another _**crack**_ and his back hit the counter, his mouth filled with blood as he grinned up at her, her face two inches from his. The counter (SNAPPED) and his back hit the ground with a (CRUNCH). Plowing her fist into his stomach – but not quite through – he hissed and grabbed his gut, watching as her foot then glided upward – SL-SL-SLAMMING into his chest. Rotted hand

_Dug into flesh_

_**Twiiiiiisted**_

And eyes watched him

_**BLEED**_

Her chest stirred again.

She grinned.

Chuckled.

Felt blood run down her hands.

"So..." he choked, breathing in deep as she stood in front of him, her bloodied hand raised and clenched into a fist. He grabbed his chest and hissed, "How does your revenge feel, _Lilithmon?"_

Her foot crunched against his kneecap.

He hissed.

She smiled warmly.

"Splendid..." _crunch._ "So, Myotismon, tell me. Where is GranDrac—"

"Where is Wizardmon?" Myotismon cut her off. Grinned through bloodied teeth. Again, she tensed, body unable to move as the word slid across his lips. Wizardmon. _Wizardmon_. Her chest no longer stirred, but _ached._ The virus – it'd truly taken over her body, hadn't it? She'd meant to be Ophanimon. Meant to only be the light. That's all she wanted, was to find the light, Hikari! But she'd only remained in darkness, full of pain and loneliness. That word... Wizardmon... "I _locked his data_ when I killed him, **Lilithmon**. Locked it tight behind the doors of time."

So.

He realized there was no trace of Gatomon left behind, had he?

Lilithmon.

The name made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end.

"Wizard... mon..." she couldn't even speak. The name got caught in her throat before she could even finish it.

He grinned.

She was paralyzed.

"The Heavenly Lady, Angewomon..." Myotismon said. "At first, I thought _Gatomon_ was Angewomon – not you. _Not you._ Anyone but this other digimon who calls herself Lilithmon."

"Angewomon—" Her chest. It was... _aaaaching._ Then there was another presence in the room – one that snapped her to attention immediately. Not her. Not Myotismon. Not the Lilymon waitress from before.

No, this was someone _else_ – someone... **_darker_**.

"So shocking, to learn of your descent – _again,_" Myotismon said. "I guess the old saying is wrong – you _can_ teach an old dog new tricks. Hm, Lilithmon?"

But she wasn't paying attention.

No, she was too busy watching the figure at the corner of her eye. The figure of a man about half her size, wearing a dark blue cloak with blond hair that swept across his shoulders. His eyes were a light, icy blue that stared at her – glowing – through the darkness. Around him... it was all... _darkness._

Her eyes widened.

Beads of sweat dotted her temples.

_Wizardmon..._ she thought, swallowing.

**(**_Gaaah  
__toooh  
__muuuhn_**)**

"So..." Myotismon's voice grew stronger. His lips curled wider. His pupils grew into slits. "Where is he, Lilithmon?"

She drew away from the Vampire King, taking a dazed step toward the figure in the corner. Every step wavered, her knees growing weaker beneath her as she shuddered. Again, there was that sharp pain – that sting – that ran from her spine to her temples. She shuddered, feeling her pulse racing as she stared that figure in the face.

**(**_Why'd you do it, Gatomon?_**)**

Myotismon sat up, tilting his head to the side as he

Smirked

Stood

And tittered

"What happened to him...?" he whispered. "What happened to Wizardmon?"

**(**_Why'd you spit on my memory?_**)**

"Wizardmon..."

That night... that Hikari was taken from her... It was then that darkness covered her because _he'd_ come—

Whispering whispering _Graaandraaacmooon_ whispering whispering

—he'd come and she'd tried to reach for Hikari, tried to get her back, but as things were, darkness only grabbed the both of them. Grabbed them and took hold, took hold and turned Hikari into TRUE LIGHT because Hikari DID NOT GIVE UP did not give up and was KING, but Lilithmon oh Lilithmon was Gatomon and Gatomon had been SWALLOWED by the darkness in her search for Hikari, just like so many years ago just so many years

and finally QUEEN GATOMON became the DARKNESS and the DARKNESS became a DEMON and the DEMON became a LORD and the DEMON LORD became **LIL** _ITH_ _**MON**_

For three years, she hadn't seen Hikari.  
_**Three years**__._

But in that darkness, so long ago...

Another hand reached out to her. Kind, bright, daring and loving. So gentle. So tender. A hand that held her tightly. A hand that reached forward to caress her cheek and let her feel passion. Passion and rage and love and _**lust**_.

A hand not illuminated in the bright, crackling light.

But _his_ hand. _**His hand**_. _**His **__**hand**_. _**HIS **__**HAND**__._

THE HAND OF...

"Wizardmon..." Myotismon hissed, lips brushing her ear seductively. "He's still dead."

Her heart clenched.

"And GranDracmon sent me..." _ker-thump, ker-thump, ker-thump_ "...He _wants_ you to know."

_Ker-__**THUMP**_

"To know..."

Wizardmon in the corner of the room—

(_his shadow, no, only his shadow, only his image, his ghost, his_

– darkness ebbing at him from all edges –

_his beautiful looming image she hungered for so much_)

faded  
faded away into the light

"..._Everything_..."

and did not return.

The sting in her temple vanished. Everything within her – her anger, her woe, her wonder – it all vanished, like darkness in the way of a torch. She couldn't touch the light anymore. She wanted to, but she couldn't – because Yagami Hikari was not her partner anymore. Because Lilithmon, the Demon Lord of Lust (_bloodlust, bloodlust, bloodlust and for the OTHER creature... that creature of white feathers and strong voice... that creature who was a mother of the half-angel half-demon in another realm... that creature who is now—_), now Lilithmon didn't care. She'd give it all.

Give it all to save Yagami Hikari... who would do the same for her.

"Alright, Myotismon," she said. Lilithmon (GRINNED) and (STOOD), tilted her (HEAD) to the side and (SMILED), raising a hand to simply (CRACK) her (KNUCKLES). "Tell me everything."

Myotismon's own grin widened as he leaned forward, eyes flashing beneath his brow. Her muscles tensed. Heart raced. He only softly chuckled, tipping her face toward his. He had the upper-hand now, because she wanted to know something only he knew. Only he did. Only. "First... tell me..."

She looked up, catching his curious gaze. Disgusting. Disgusting. **_Disgusting_**.

Smiling, he said, "What is that weight on your chest? That weight on your heart? Tell me, what is the weight that turns a digimon like Gatomon into... _you_?"

She paused, listening to his questions. It'd make sense for a creature like him to ask something so odd – he would never understand the delicate structure of light, and love, and care, and kindness. He would never understand love, and the lengths one goes to in order to protect that love. Silly, Lilithmon knew, how long of lengths she went to – but it didn't matter now, oh no, not now, not anymore. Nothing mattered anymore until she saved Hikari. Not even the light burning brightly within her chest, and the Crest and DigiEgg of Light grabbing her by the spine – by the chest – by the mind – and searing her whole body as her hand turned to rot, and her mind ached.

Until Lilithmon found Hikari, she would endure those sharp pains.

Together, she and her desire to save the light would do this.

Together.

No matter how screwed up it was.

"It's like I have this big weight on my chest, you know..." Lilithmon whispered, her fingernail lightly sliding up his chin, causing his grin to widen, his grip to tighten. She looked into those eyes of his, knowing what was going to happen, seeing it all play out before her eyes. "A weight that comes from bearing GranDracmon's child."

**.+.**

Don't

_**FUCK**_

With a

_**FUCKING**_

Demon Lord

**.+.**

Walls dyed red

Chair spattered and broken and splintered

Tables overturned and some cracked

Windows broken

Covered in red

Covered in gore

Data ascended

Data which curled around her fingertips as she caught bits and pieces of it, watching that bright blue and pink light illuminate her smiling red face. Then, just like that, the data carried high in the sky.

She walked out of Bernie's Bar, eyes flashing as she smiled humbly to herself, bringing a hand flatly against her cheek as she watched the last of dusk die, darkness consuming that once so-brightly-burning sky. The colors of dawn were blurring together again - except it was no longer dawn. Dusk had its turn now. Her eyes were gleaming, hand smearing dark red on her cheeks, purple shawl falling to her feet as she heavily, happily sighed.

"The Zenith Gate..." she whispered, smearing that blood across her lips as if it were lipstick. "So that is where you are, my dear... my beautiful... my deceitful lover... _**GranDracmon**_."

_Do not forget, Lilithmon..._

_It is always darkest_

_before dawn_

Wizardmon's voice died in her head then.

She knew she'd probably never hear it again.

**.+.**

Her name was Lilithmon.

However, at that time, she couldn't even _dream_ of being someone like Lilithmon.

All she knew was that one cold winter night, when fallen to the red earth came the white snow (snow as white as angel wings, snow as pure as the Crest of Light), Wizardmon came to her.

Said he'd been reborn.

Said so many things.

He held out his hand to her in the darkness when no other hand did (as if any hand _could_ reach out to her in that leering shadow), and, seeking the help of an old friend, of a friend she trusted, she took that hand.

Then, when the snow had melted away into crisp spring, a digimon was born...

A digimon who evolved into Angewomon.

A digimon with enough power to stop Lilithmon.

Her own daughter.

Gatomon.

Wizardmon.

Angewomon.

Or, at least, Gatomon had _thought_ it was Wizardmon...

But it was not Wizardmon.  
No, he had _taken_ Wizardmon.  
Imprisoned his DigiSoul in a cage.  
Used his body to deceive her.  
Used her best friend  
_**.Wizardmon.  
**_Got her hopes up  
And took them away  
It was NOT  
It was

NEVER

Wizardmon

His name was

**.****GranDracmon****.**

And he took

YAGAMI HIKARI

He took

HER

And he

GAVE HER AWAY

Gave her to

DAGOMON

The Darkest Demon of all, Demon of the

DARK OCEAN

So he said

BECOME LUST

And only then

MAY YOU SEE HER AGAIN

But when Gatomon became Lust, became Lilithmon, a Great Demon Lord, she did not see Yagami Hikari. She'd heard Leviamon gave the Chosen of Light away; said he'd released her from his power... but where did the Chosen go? Only GranDracmon knew.

She did not see Yagami Hikari for years to come.

Now, however... _Now,_ she would see Yagami Hikari once more. See her, and

**TAKE **

_HER _

BACK

**.+.**

Lilithmon became acquainted with six other digimon that year; six other digimon who'd come in contact with a creature named GranDracmon. Some had traveled from whole other dimensions, some traveled across time; some had heard of her, and others had pasts just as strange as her. Lilithmon was not alone, and though she could have relied on the other Destined to help her

She did not

Could not

Would not

Because she was

twisted.

And the Destined, after all, thought it was Lilithmon who'd taken Yagami Hikari away in the first place, not realizing that Lilithmon, herself, _was_ Gatomon, their friend's partner.

So she'd get Yagami Hikari back.

She, and the other six digimon:

...Prideful Lucemon, whose axe hungered for one more limb to chop.

(  
_**CRACK**_, the axe hollered, _**CRAAACK**_, OH – FAH – NEE – MON  
)

...Wrathful Demon, who killed his own brother to get this far.

(  
"Wrath... you said you would carry out his wrath before..."  
_crk, crk, crk  
_"I like that. Wrath. It sounds..."  
_CRK CRK_

"...**Powerful**..."  
)

...Greedy Barbamon, who promised to _give back_ what GranDracmon had _taken._

(  
_I love you, Simone...  
__I want you, Simone...  
__Oh God, I want _**all**_ of you, Simone...  
_)

...Envious Leviamon, whose heart had _enough, enough, _**enough**.

(  
_Leviathan,_ something in his head said. _The sky is clear.  
_No snow, no snow, we've got no snow  
The sky is

**CLEAR  
**)

...Gluttonous Beelzemon, who swore not to kill GranDracmon, but to make him SCREAM.

(  
_Renamon, Ai, Mako, Juri... I promise...  
_Clk-clk says his hungry gun so horribly starved for revenge for blood for anger for power  
So _so_ **hungry  
**_I will remember you  
)_

...Slothful but Raging Belphemon, who would avenge his mother, his sister, his partner, and rectify his own mistakes with his past. He would not be slothful again.

(  
**Look deep**, Kaikatsu, **Look ****very**** deep  
**And all you shall see...  
_IS _

_**BELPHEMON  
**_)

...And now, _Lustful Lilithmon_, who would NEVER give up her search for Yagami Hikari, her partner, her friend, her everything. Lilithmon, who would return to her daughter (**ANGEWOMON**) one day, and give her daughter the life she never had because her mother was always on the run, always looking, her whole life – searching – for the Eighth DigiDestined Child.

(  
A hand reaches out into the darkness  
A hand using light only as a mask, using love and tenderness as a veil, using the darkness as an excuse.  
A hand she thought was Wizardmon's, but no, oh no,  
It was the hand of FATE  
HER FATE  
The FATE that GRANDRACMON had FORCED upon her  
And for that,  
NONE OF THEM WOULD GIVE UP EVER AGAIN  
)

Together, as they ran through many Digital Worlds—Earths—eras—traveled across time and the very threads of fate—spurring terror and chaos all in their bloody search for GranDracmon, they'd gained a name. A name that struck fear within the hearts of many.

Together, they were known as

-**(** **. ****THE SEVEN GREAT DEMON LORDS**** . )-**


	10. Session Seven Point Five: Darkness

_**THE DEMON CHRONICLES**_

**Disclaimer:** I am absolutely not making profit off of this fanfic—any infringement is not intended and never will be.  
**Rating:** PG-13 / T  
**Genre/s:** Adventure, Action, Drama, Romance, Tragedy, Horror  
**Currently Listening To:** "Adagio" by James Newton Howard  
**Description:** Everyone has secrets, even the Demon Lords. We learn the Scourge of the Digi-Underworld's pasts, what brought them together, and the viciousness of their great founder.  
**Author's Note:** So nearly a year after its incarnation, I have finally updated with a short half-session detailing an important plot development! If any of you have been wondering just what the hell I've been doing, it's because I've been preparing for the events that follow _this_ half-session (which is a _very_ important set-up)! I've also completely revamped the final session and will be separating it into seven _more_ sessions (which tie up all the loose ends of each of the Demon Lords), and it's followed by the final showdown of Demon Lords versus Lord of Darkness! You think I left this story unfinished? Oh, pish-posh! ;) I just want the follow-up to be as badass as the readers and reviewers deserve it to be!

HELL YEAH.

_**The Demon Chronicles**_

It's baaaack!

**Session 7.5  
****.****Darkness****.**

_Many years ago, in the darkest pit of the Digital World's innumerable parallel universes..._

GranDracmon stood above the endless World of Darkness, where the bones of permanently-dead digimon disappeared to. It was a black sea of pussboils and rotting flesh, shadows seeping into flesh and preparing to possess bodies to become other virus-type digimon while hanging to different digimon anatomies to become different digimon. In a way, it was full-circle, GranDracmon thought. When evil digimon permanently died, they came to the World of Darkness. In the World of Darkness, shadows would seep into different parts of flesh and combine them, giving life to a new species of digimon.

Of course, this wasn't how all digimon were created. Only the darkest, more devious of creatures, like GranDracmon himself. Though Matadormon was purely created by Nikkou, she'd taken his data _from_ the World of Darkness and given that data life; turning it into something only a fierce god by the name of Yggdrasil could inspire the spark of infinity into. Nikkou—Yggdrasil—had created a nightmare, but then again, _she_ was a nightmare, herself.

GranDracmon grinned through blackened teeth as he searched through the abyss of body parts and bones. They covered the World of Darkness everywhere, the rotting corpses used as food for those who lived in the darkness without ever seeing the light or living on the Digital World or Earth. Of course, there were plenty of digimon who wandered the World of Darkness.

But the World of Darkness didn't really seem to be built upon earth and tree and water and wind; instead, its foundation was simply the bones of the dead, its trees the brown flesh of nail-bitten, decaying skin and sorrowful memories, its water only the red and black blood splattered by generations past, and the wind the breath of demons long-gone but still thriving within the never-ending atmosphere.

GranDracmon loved this world with an unbelievable fondness.

"Oh, what's this?" he said to himself as he leaned over to examine the elongated bone of a rather large digimon. His lips peeled back into a grin resembling a guillotine; he reached forward and clutched the bone, which must've been twice the size of his own body. Even so, it was a mere _arm_, not even the full body of the digimon carcass. "Just what I needed. Lucky me."

Yes, this was _exactly_ what GranDracmon came to the World of Darkness for.

_This_ arm.

With this, he could _really_ have some fun.

"Hello there, Millenniumon," he said to himself as he examined the large arm. Even though Millenniumon was long-gone due to his defeat at Ryo's and Monodramon's hands, GranDracmon could still feel the dead digimon's power radiating from the mere corpse. "You and I... we're going places, ya get me? Kukuku."

It was a rumble in the lowest part of his chest; a laugh that stayed there like a sickly cancer that consumed his body. He held the bone toward the sky, examining its mighty Herculean strength.

"Yes," he said. "With this, I will conquer even time itself."


	11. Session Eight: Pride

_**THE DEMON CHRONICLES**_

**Disclaimer:** I am absolutely not making profit off of this fanfic—any infringement is not intended and never will be.  
**Rating:** PG-13 / T  
**Genre/s:** Adventure, Action, Drama, Romance, Tragedy, Horror  
**Currently Listening To:** "Nothing Else Matters" by Metallica  
**Description:** Everyone has secrets, even the Demon Lords. We learn the Scourge of the Digi-Underworld's pasts, what brought them together, and the viciousness of their great founder.  
**Author's Note: **I kind of like Cherubimon (the name) more than Kerpymon, so I decided to do an insta-name switch. I hope no one minds and I apologize for this inconvenience!

So, without further adieu...

_**The Demon Chronicles**_

_So close no matter how far  
Couldn't be much more from the heart  
Forever trusting who we are  
No, nothing else matters_  
—"Nothing Else Matters", Metallica

**Session Eight  
.****Pride****.**

_Lucemon..._

It was her gentle memory that softly called to him in his psyche; echoing endlessly down a pit of opened doors, leading to gray memories that seeped blood and pain from the soon-to-be empty remnant.

_Lucemon, you are the one I trust most. Don't forget—_

Lucemon stared out at the hazy bleakness of the billowing winter. Everything inside him was an eldritch mélange of hysterical, cheerful, and angry; a part of him wondered _why_ he did the things he did, while another part of him said all too well that it was... well... _proud_ of what he did. He managed to rise above his predecessors, his ancestors, his mentors, and his family all in one fell swoop. It was a uplifting rush of emotions that, moments ago, had caused him to buckle over and nearly empty the contents of his stomach.

—_You are weaving a _**new**_ beginning. The path you took in your past life..._

Yet, seeing Ophanimon's data flutter upward and upward and upward, he held it all in. He bottled it. He disallowed every motion from harming him. He disallowed all pain—be it internal, external, emotional, mental, physical, or spiritual.

_It doesn't need to be the path you take this time._

Who needed pain when you could watch the snow fall outside?

_Because this time, you have the love of many behind you – the Chosen's, the other Holy angels', and..._

Watched as frost consumed the window frame, boring into Lucemon's consciousness as he soon realized he was surrounded by Ophanimon's blood. It hadn't disintegrated like the rest of her. But then again, neither had Seraphimon's or Cherubimon's when he'd killed _them_, and that was even before the death of his beloved Ophanimon.

_...and my love, Lucemon..._

Ophanimon's love, eh?

_Let our love guide you where we could not before._

"Oh, God."

Lucemon thought for a moment that it was he who spoke. It wouldn't surprise him. He had about a million thoughts racing through his mind, wondering what would come next, who he'd fight in the future, how he would come to rule this world as his own. They were thoughts that lingered in his mind like jumbled legs in a race; causing him to mentally trip and stumble and sometimes even fall, even though his balance was titanic and titan at best.

But it wasn't Lucemon who spoke.

The half-angel half-demon twisted around and peered at the human standing at his doorway, her eyes the size of Superman's fist as her pupils were the miniscule weight of a needle tip. Her blond hair scattered across her shoulders as she groped her lips before she could scream, her face as pale and placid as the snow outside.

"O—Ophanimon—" she whispered, her knees wobbling beneath her.

Izumi...?

Lucemon's eyes fell half-lidded as her attention darted to his face. He turned away from her to stare back out the window, the expression in his eyes saying all too well that he wasn't here; he was out there, dancing amongst the frozen angel tears.

"Lucemon, how could you?" she hissed, tears spilling down her cheeks. "She trusted you! She—she LOVED you! We... we _all_..."

"Spare me," Lucemon grunted. Izumi's tears immediately stopped, her chest rising and falling with each new trickle of a heartbeat. Her tears hadn't stopped because they were crocodile tears; they stopped because she came to the sudden realization that the Lucemon she was talking to wasn't the Lucemon she'd raised for six years. This was the Lucemon she knew before Takuya and the others found a way to reenter the Digital World; the Lucemon they fought, the Lucemon who made them who they were, the Lucemon they killed. _He_ was the one _she_ killed, and he remembered. He _REMEMBERED_. "So, we can do this three ways, Izumi."

Her muscles tensed.

Her hands slowly lowered back to her side.

Her legs became completely immobilized by the fear erupting throughout her body; fear that mixed with a million other emotions Lucemon could almost feel bursting throughout her psychological aura. He smiled.

Like Ophanimon's heart, he could hear Izumi's as it beat rapidly.

Thump-thump. Thump-thump. Thump-thump. All in rapid succession, completely and radically his own to take at any coming moment.

"First, I can kill you quietly," he told her without looking in her direction. "No fuss, no muss. I'll grab you by the hair and twist your neck and, hahah, I'll make it as painless as possible, just like Cherubimon's death."

Izumi's eyes dimmed.

She opened her mouth to say something, the fierce fire of a Destined's heart filling what was once dimmed in those brilliant eyes of hers—however, she was shushed a second later by the swift oncoming rush of Lucemon's wings, which covered her body fully and completely. White feathers fell around them like snowflames, tottering and fluttering and gently landing on her skin. At that moment, he wondered what his feathers felt like. Soft tears, or like flames, embedding into her flesh?

He held her wholly; disabling any room for movement between them as her eyes widened, and her lips clamped shut as she tried to understand _why_.

"Or, we can go with Door Number Two," Lucemon cooed. "You can scream and attract the others. Once they enter the room, I'll shut the door behind them with my wings so they can't escape. One-by-one, before you have the time to spirit evolve, I'll slash your abdomens—but don't worry, you'll still be alive long enough for me to play with you, for those whose fate is to die by an abdomen injury die slow and painful deaths. Hm. Maybe one of you will be able to attract more attention—but I always have enjoyed games, remember? More people means more games. Hah, I still think about that time, when I was an in-training digimon and you tried to show me how to play Monopoly. I conquered that game, and I conquered you. Maybe it was foreshadowing, hm? Maybe I'd grow close to you, get you to trust me, then backstab you. Kill you. _Take your place_ as the Digital World's lord and master. But first, let's go over Option Three."

Izumi was shaking.

She was attempting to open her mouth—to grab her digivice—to do _anything_ she could to face Lucemon as he held her in place. However, he merely gave her a grin that showed all too well his pearly white fangs, bloodstained and splattered.

"You could spirit evolve," Lucemon said simply, wrenching Izumi's digivice from her pocket and _putting_ it in her hand. "And I'll rip each of your hair strands out, slowly, and hold you in place. You might be able to scream and attract attention, or throw one of your weak attacks at me... but that's okay, because you're _weak_, and peace has made your _friends_ weak. They'll come, and I'll consume this room in my sanctum of darkness and light, and as they digivolve, I'll strike them down. Have you ever been attacked mid-evolution? There's a cost to evolution, you know. It's when you're most vulnerable to attacks, of course, and if you get attacked, then it can set you back to even weaker than what you were before... so if I attack them as they digivolve, well, then they're screwed, aren't they? Either way, Izumi, you're going to die. It's your choice whether you want that to be painless, painful, or spread out to your comrades."

"Lucemon..."

Izumi shuddered against the coldness of his body. He could feel the stiffness of her muscles against his chest, growing bigger by the moment as she thought about the three choices he'd given her.

She could take all the time she wanted.

Because her fate would be the same anyway, because Lucemon would chop her up; he'd take her life, just as he'd taken _their_ lives, just like he'd take all of their lives eventually.

"They're your comrades, too," she finally said. Lucemon's eyes narrowed. Izumi's trembling immediately stopped. Her muscles relaxed. Her eyes blinked up at him, giving him a look both tender and tidal; soft but firm; so Izumi-like, but at the same time, contradicting to the big bad bitch she knew how to be. She smiled sadly at him as one of her hands (now somewhat freed from Lucemon's taut grasp) finally reached up to cup his cheek. "You're talking about us as if we're disjointed, but... we're not. We're not, and we never will be, Lucemon, because we are all connected. We were connected the moment we decided to raise you, rather than abandon you and have you live your life filled with hatred for us. You're family now, whether you like it or not."

_Family, hm?_ A voice sneered inside his mind. Lucemon knew that voice well. It caused him to draw away from Izumi, shoving her away from him so her back would instead collide with a bookshelf. Izumi gasped, her spine _CRACK_ing as she hissed and attempted to regain her balance. Lucemon clasped his temples and whimpered, his eyes squeezing shut as the voice spoke to him in his mind.

A deep, bellowing voice, which cracked and toughened and fell low beneath its gravelly vocal chords. It was a masculine voice that spoke from the diaphragm and reverberated off every wall of Lucemon's abyssanctum of a memory.

_If you were family,_ the voice seethed, _then why didn't they tell you?  
Tell you that you killed Kouichi?  
That you were the cause of Ophanimon's death—Seraphimon's?  
That you corrupted Cherubimon?_

_Don't you expect more truth?_

_More love?_

_More _**respect**_ from your family?_

"Shut-up," Lucemon hissed between clenched teeth, his eyes narrowing into slits as his fingers dug so deeply into his scalp, pinpricks of blood began to spill into his blond hair. "Shut-up!"

_But why? I'm only saying what's true, Lucemon!_

"Lucemon..." Izumi said quietly, her brow furrowing as she took a step forward. She reached a shaky hand to his shoulder, her heart thumping loudly in her chest.

He could hear it.

He could hear her heart racing.

So why wasn't she running?

Now was her chance!

Now was her chance to leave him and run the hell away, to prepare the others for the next big battle!

Dammit, WHY WAS SHE STILL HERE?

"What's wrong?" she asked, cupping his shoulder and attempting to turn him toward her.

He screamed.

Screamed and held his head in his hands, his voice a hoarse mimicry of a father losing his child; of a child screaming his mother's name as he loses her before her time. His cry was a plunge into the deepest darkness of his inner-sanctum of impenetrable memories; the plummeting waters of a waterfall, which crashed against the rocky surface before it broke away granite and stone over millennia and centuries.

_You used to have so much pride in your family._

"SHUT-UP!" he screamed, winding his body in Izumi's direction as she firmly grasped him with both arms this time.

"Lucemon!" she shouted, embracing him with arms warm and soft and so like yet so unlike Ophanimon's that Lucemon shouted with her; shouted something inaudible and completely incomprehensible even to he who screamed it. Izumi held him tightly in her arms, tears again falling from her eyes. "Please, trust me!"

_Trust? Please, you trusted her and she betrayed you! Didn't you know her better than that?!  
God, Lucemon, you're such an idiot!  
Why would you trust _**THESE**_ people?!  
Aren't you smarter than that!_

"FUCK YOU."

_**CRAAAACK  
GSH**_

Izumi's eyes widened.

Beads of sweat streamed down her temple, then fell across her cheek like teardrops in spring.

Her heartbeat slowed; quivered.

"L—Lucemon," she coughed, her hand—a trembling mess of nerves—ascending from his shoulder to instead hold his cheek. Her touch was warm, unlike his touch; no, she only shivered in response to his corpse cold flesh.

Specks of red slathered across his face; specks that covered the dots made just an hour beforehand first by Cherubimon, then by Seraphimon, and finally by Ophanimon.

Specks of red that lingered and shook along with his whole body before dripping down to his chin and falling to the ground.

"Why didn't you run away when you had a chance?" Lucemon hissed. His eyes were nearly as large as Izumi's, the arctic blue of his eyes fading into a dark, velvety color that grabbed and gripped Izumi firmly within its pits. He ground his teeth, his heart thumping loudly in his chest.

"Because, you dumbass..." she said, eyes narrowing into a glare. "In order for someone to trust you, sometimes you have to trust them first."

_She wasn't worthy of your trust._

(WASN'T)

(**WORTHY**)

"Wasn't..." Lucemon echoed.

In one second, he'd dropped Izumi to the bloodied ground as her heartbeat

(STOPPED)

and he was forced to look up at the doorframe, where Takuya, Kouji, Kouichi, JUNPEI, and Tomoki came rushing into the room, only to be set back by the sight before them. Immediately, they all screamed Izumi's name...

But it was too late.

_Wasn't worthy._

"Alright," Lucemon said quietly, feeling heat rise to his eyes before falling against his cheeks. Through the falling liquid heat cascading down his face, he gave the Destined a grin that cracked his lips and gave the impression of a stitch-lipped scarecrow. "I guess it's Door Number Two."

He slammed the door behind them.

**.+.**

_Oh God Lucemon, what have you done?_ His hands were marred by their blood, which coated the walls, the floor, the door. Their screams still rung like wedding bells in the back of his mind, unrepentant and taken completely by surprise. Screams that hadn't at first even realized they were screams, no, not until the pain struck full-force in the bottom of their stomach as they realized that they were no longer staring into the face of the Lucemon they loved, but the Lucemon who was consumed by their "betrayal", a betrayal none of them realized would have such an impact on the demon of pride.

_WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?_

Lucemon's expression had been a mix of blood, tears, and grins all day. They all played his face at the same time, like violinists against their delicate strings. He touched their bodies with a simple gesture, his own heart thumping like a rock against his ribcage.

"If I hadn't," he said, his body trembling, "if I hadn't, they—would've begun another rebellion—and _more_ people would've died! If I hadn't... hadn't... then they would've tried to kill me!"

_Like you killed them?_

"Shut-up!"

_Didn't you swear to be a better mon?_

"No, I—I can still be—"

_Hah! After what you've done, no one will ever forgive you. No one could EVER trust you. Well, except me._

"And who are you?"

_You know who I am,_ the voice inside his head chirped; chuckled; flittered. Lucemon's muscles tensed as a dark aura consumed the door mere feet in front of him. The aura was the size of a bulging Centarumon, which extended from frame to frame as the mahogany disappeared beneath sifting shadows that splintered the walls like earthquake-cracks. Tremors shook the foundation beneath Lucemon's feet, causing him to jolt upwards as his wings fluttered and he took flight, staring down at the dark portal as a black silhouette manifested from its center.

_You know who I am, Lucemon..._ the voice cooed, like a father to his beloved son. _It's me, the one who's guided you. I helped you destroy the people who can't trust you. But you can trust me, Lucemon, because I trust you. Yes, Lucemon, trust me, because you can't expect trust from someone else they trust you first..._

Izumi's face flashed across his mind like rapid electric fire, reminding him somehow of oranges in summertime, of unseen smiles during masquerades, of a girl with hair made of sunshine and gold. She always knew what to say, even when no one else did. Sometimes, she even knew the _worst_ thing to say, even when no one else had the courage to say it—this made the worst thing also the best thing half the time, no matter how odd or dark or different it was.

_Because, you dumbass,_ she'd said, _In order for someone to trust you, sometimes you have to trust them first._

"Show yourself," Lucemon hissed.

Again, the figure hesitated.

A second later and the dark portal hissed with undeniable energy, which crackled at the figure's palm as a jet black arm emerged from the aura's contents. Zephyr's breeze pressed against Lucemon's face, sending a cool chill down his spine as the figure—the voice in his head—revealed himself for the first time to Lucemon since he'd begun hearing the voice during his dreams, almost one year ago.

_**Thunk**_

A hoof plunked out of the portal and collided with the red rug. The floorboards skittered upon impact, sending thunderchills throughout the disturbed equilibrium of the room.

_**THUNK**_

Another hoof, this time landing harder than the other one. More firmly, more pristinely.

_My name,_ the voice began, as this time a head emerged from the darkness.

A head with golden strands of luscious hair that filtered to his shoulders, a blue mask that obscured his obsidian eyes, and a pair of lips that stretched into a cracked grin that resembled the smile of a cadaver. It was a mon part-horse part-man, a mon who extended his gaze out to Lucemon as he reached his clawed hand for Lucemon's own.

"...Is GranDracmon..."

_**THUNK**_, _**THUNK**_

Two other hooves.

And a grin.

"...And I can take you back, Lucemon, back before all the pain... we can create a new world, a world where you rule all, and no one will rebel because you are the Great Lucemon, Lord of All. Yes, take my hand, and we will hoist this world upon your shoulders."

Rule the world...?

Go back... before all this pain...?

Before Ophanimon and the others' betrayal?

Before he killed Ophanimon, Seraphimon, Cherubimon... the Destined?

He could redo it all.

Make a world filled with peace. _His_ peace.

"Lord of my own world, huh?" Lucemon said, giving GranDracmon a lop-sided grin. "Sounds like fun."

He took the Lord of Darkness's hand.  
And entered the portal.

**.+.**

_During the Frontier World's origins, when beast monsters and human monsters alike vied for control over the Digital World..._

The leaders of the beast digimon (a fierce, half-blind digimon who called himself Reckless, but was really just an extremely aggressive SaberLeomon) and the human digimon (a gentle but ferocious and undefeatable creature by the name of GuardiAngemon) were having a one-on-one battle. It was the largest battles of their lives, and they knew they were going to determine the fate of this war _now_ or _never_.

Who was better?

Beast or man?

Lucemon found it somewhat poetic, this battle between two digimon who didn't know what fate had in store for them.

_I promise,_ Lucemon thought, _I will create a world where the Destined and Ophanimon and Seraphimon and Cherubimon can live peacefully together. We will _all _live peacefully, and no one will take it from us!_

So, when the battleground was bathed in blood and neither Reckless or GuardiAngemon showed signs of giving up, Lucemon made a decision.

GranDracmon brought him back in time for a reason. If he was going to do anything, he was going to rule this world with an iron fist.

_**GSHHHH**_

Reckless howled in pain as Lucemon's fist launched between his shoulder blades. Then, before GuardiAngemon could even realize what happened to his great nemesis—

_**SPLSH**_

—a blade made of pure, black shadows plunged through his armor and into the palpable flesh beneath. GuardiAngemon choked, his body feeling repulsed by the sudden image of his own blood staining the half-demon half-angel's arm.

"I'm sorry," Lucemon told the two digimon, "but you're in my way."

_**CRACKCRACKCRAAAACK**_

Their data floated up to the sky.

And, though it would take at least a decade before Lucemon could take full reign of the Digital World, it was alright, because it meant that even with time, he would come to create a world where he and his precious ones could live together. Under his rule, beast nor man could disturb this plane of existence. He wouldn't let ANYONE do any_thing_ to jeopardize _**his**_ world—_**his**_ pride.

And, sure enough, Lucemon gained power over the Digital World. He created rules and democracy; anarchy and monarchy; everything a world would or should have to stay peaceful. When rebellions arose, he'd squish them like any other leader, and he created a system where Ophanimon sat at his right-hand side, Seraphimon sat at his left, and Cherubimon, like the father and brother he always was while Lucemon was growing up, remained behind Lucemon, ready to rest a clunky palm on his shoulder when Lucemon needed support.

Even so...

**.+.**

"You've got to be kidding me," Cherubimon hissed. "You're becoming a tyrant!"

"I get the last say, _don't forget it_," Lucemon spat back. He couldn't let anyone jeopardize his dream. No one could take it from him. "Don't forget that it was ME who saved you from the wars of time past! It was ME who made this world as peaceful as it is now! ME who makes the rules, and YOU who follows them! Don't you _**DARE**_ forget your place, _Cherubimon_!"

"I've always been your most trusted," Ophanimon told Lucemon, biting her bottom lip in thought. When Lucemon brought his attention toward the young womon, she sighed and rested her hands in her lap as she finally came to her decision. "But I agree with Cherubimon. This isn't helping the digimon, Lucemon. It's _oppressing_ them."

"Oppression?!" Lucemon growled. "They don't even know the MEANING of oppression! They've forgotten what I _saved_ them from."

"_Or_," Seraphimon said coldly, turning his petrifyingly chilling gaze to match Lucemon's. "Maybe they just _prefer_ what you saved them from."

"Get out."

It came out as a hiss between Lucemon's clenched teeth.

"All of you," he snarled, standing from his golden throne. "SHUT-UP AND GET OUT."

_It seems,_ GranDracmon told him, _that no matter what you do or what time you live in, they will always be undeserving of your love._

When the three future Holy Angels left, Lucemon slumped back down on his throne and leaned his elbows against his kneecaps. He covered his face with his hands, his arms shaking as his mind went through dozens of strategical scenarios. What if he did this? What if he did that? What could he do to make the Holy Angels trust him again?

_You don't need their trust,_ GranDracmon told him. _It's _**they**_ who need _**your**_ trust. This world is your pride and joy—they can't take that away from you._

"No one can," Lucemon growled, the shaking in his arms extending to his hands, his stomach, his legs. They were silent tremors running all along his body in rapid succession. "This power is mine. No one can take it from me."

**.+.**

That was a lie.

Ten years later, ten Legendary Warriors rose up from the hopes and dreams of the oppressed people.

They fought Lucemon and, for the first time, Lucemon was defeat.

They imprisoned him within the core of the Digital World, where he sat waiting, watching and planning for his rise back up as the one who would create a peaceful world. He'd destroy the current world if he needed to, and make a _new_ one and, if anyone got in his way, even the Holy Angels or Destined, he'd just kill them anyway. Then, when he finished the Digital World, he'd just go back in time, get another Holy Angel or another Destined, and bring them back to the world he created.

He would have the _perfect_ world, and he would have _trust_, he would have _love_, and by Yggdrasil, he would have _respect_.

**.+.**

When Lucemon found himself facing the Destined once more, he could hardly believe the strength they held. He knew he could beat them—easily—and he could tear them up and tear them out and he could batter, maim, and butcher them until nothing but bone marrow remained.

Right?

Because the Destined weren't very strong.

He'd faced them before; he'd surprised them and attacked before they could even digivolve.

But here, here they were _already_ spirit evolved.

Here, he was all alone in facing them.

However, when he ascended from his past form and became nothing but a purple dragon of immense power and energy, a digimon by the name of Lucemon Shadow Lord Mode, everything changed. They'd purified half of him, banishing his light and forming only within him darkness. Lucemon was completely and utterly ready to be defeated; he was facing the Destined who loved him, the Destined who fought him, and, as Lucemon stared Susanoomon in the eye, he made a stunning, thick realization.

It wasn't that the Destined killed a past life of Lucemon.

It was that the Destined killed _him_.

_He_ was the one they killed.

In dying, he had become the Lucemon who would kill them, go back in time, and be killed again. And again. _And again_. And their fate would always be the same, never-ending, never changing, constant and dark and unfavorable. The future of the Digital World and Earth would be in a forever frozen state, unable to move forward until the past could catch up with the present. But the past would _never_ catch up to the present, because Lucemon would die, be reborn, kill the Holy Angels and the Destined, go back in time, and the cycle would continue and continue and continue for eternity.

Susanoomon's final, shining attack was coming closer toward Lucemon's body.

It seemed to be moving in slow motion, as Lucemon's thoughts lingered on the endless cycle he'd created.

Was this what he wanted?

Was this what he, or _GranDracmon_, wanted?

Was he merely GranDracmon's tool, or did he mind this cycle of death, rebirth, and death?

Every digimon usually died at least once or twice in their lifetime, not because of old age necessarily, but because tyrants arose and wars began. Territories were claimed and digimon had to fight to stay alive. Those who couldn't fight couldn't live, and the cycle began again.

But this was different.

Lucemon didn't want this.

_This wasn't what he wanted_.

**I...** he thought, watching as Susanoomon's final attack thrust through his barrier and collided with flesh. **I... wanted a world where I could be with them, not destroy them. I never wanted this! I wanted... to redeem my past!**

_Hah._

_Hah._

_Hah._

The low, gravelly voice of GranDracmon echoed within Lucemon's mind.

**You**_? Redeem your past?  
Oh, _please._ You tried to take over the world without giving anyone the freedom they desired! You killed countless digimon, took Kouichi's life, and took the lives of humans for a farce sense of peace! As if people can't think for themselves, you thought your pride was enough to control them. You stupid, _stupid_ creature.  
I love foolish digimon like you, Lucemon._  
_You make living eternity worth it.  
I always get a kick out of it!_

**No,** Lucemon hissed internally, feeling as his data rumbled and shook and faltered. Blood splattered across his form, blood that instantly turned into data and rose listlessly to the sky. He watched his data as it chipped away from his ancient body, creating and marring and _ending_ history all at once. Even so, the half-angel half-demon smiled. **I'll remember this time, Ophanimon... Seraphimon, Cherubimon... Izumi, Kouichi, Takuya and JUNPEI and Kouji and Tomoki... I'll remember, and make this right.**

And so, the Destined watched their brother fade away.

**I'll be reborn, and raised by all of you.**

**I'll REMEMBER you.**

**And I promise...**

And thus, Lucemon was no more.

**I  
WILL  
KILL  
GRANDRACMON!**

**.+.**

_It's just a cut. Cuts are a part of life – we all get cut sometimes, be it by accident or on purpose. Luckily, we also have someone who will_

**always**

_pick us up off our feet._

**.+.**

His name was Lucemon.

He was half-angel, half-demon.

And he was the

DEMON LORD

Of

PRIDE

And, within time, Lucemon would find six others just like him, who were strong and strove to avenge the love lost by GranDracmon's hands. They weren't done yet. He made them. He pushed them.

He created seven monsters that would one day rise above him, and show him the _true_ demons he had manifested.


	12. Session Nine: Wrath

_**THE DEMON CHRONICLES**_

**Disclaimer:** I am absolutely not making profit off of this fanfic—any infringement is not intended and never will be.  
**Rating:** PG-13 / T  
**Genre/s:** Adventure, Action, Drama, Romance, Tragedy, Horror  
**Currently Listening To:** "No One Knows" by Queens of the Stone Age  
**Description:** Takeru. Ken. Demon. They each have their fair share of brother issues.  
**Author's Note:** It's only Demon's and Barbamon's sessions that are super long. The rest of the Demon Lords have average-sized session lengths, I promise! Sorry for the length of these, for those who grimace at the sight of long sessions. :)

_**The Demon Chronicles  
**_**Session 9  
.****Wrath****.**

Brothers...

They have the power to improve you, to fuel you, to make you into something you never thought you could be. For a boy, an older brother makes them into a man. For a girl, an older brother is her protector, her keeper, the one who will never let her go astray.

For Demon, his brother was an impenetrable rock, whose size grew every year until it became an immense boulder, with a shadow that extended over all others, even Demon. For him, his brother was a man to defy, because Seraphimon was the only father Demon had ever truly known. Their real father—Alphamon—had business to attend to in whole other dimensions. As a royal knight, their home dimension was only _a_ dimension for him to travel to, and it wasn't even his home dimension at that. Because their father was so absent all the time, Seraphimon had taken it upon his shoulders to be Demon's father, brother, and sometimes, even mother, who they had no recognition of. Demon took his brother's life.

For Ken, his brother was taken _from_ him by a bustling semi-truck shambling down a dark road midday. Ken's brother was someone he aspired to be like; someone Ken wanted to not only be like, but wanted to be better than, because Osamu was everyone's favorite. Everyone knew Osamu. Everyone liked Osamu. Everyone admired Osamu. And no one knew Ken. No one liked Ken. No one admired Ken. Just like everyone knew Osamu, everyone knew Seraphimon; just like everyone admired Osamu, everyone admired Seraphimon; just like no one knew Ken, no one knew Demon; no one admired Ken, no one admired Demon.

For Takeru, his brother was a beacon of his hope. There were many reasons why Takeru was the bearer of Hope, but if it weren't for his older brother, then he would not be the pristine miracle he is today. His brother taught him the meaning of friendship (_Taichi, Hikari_), the meaning of hope (_Daisuke, Miyako, Iori_), and the meaning of the fighting spirit (_Sora, Koushiro, Mimi, Jou_). Unlike Demon and unlike Ken, Takeru never lost his brother. He still had his, and his older brother would always be that beacon of hope, to guide him when he was lost, to bring him to his knees, to pick up when he fell. Takeru was never jealous of Yamato, never aspired to be better than Yamato, never disliked Yamato. In a lot of ways, their relationship was how a brotherhood should be. Ken wished Osamu would have disappeared because he couldn't understand why no one liked him like they liked Osamu; Demon _made_ his brother disappear because he was in the way of Demon's ascending benignity; when Yamato disappeared back when they were facing Puppetmon, Takeru became stronger, and _fought_ to gain Yamato back.

In truth, each of the three parallels had never truly understood each other, yet there was still that innate connection that flowed throughout their destinies, interlocking them, tightening them, binding them together. It wasn't only older brothers that tied them together, it was everything those brothers meant, and the destiny that chose at just that precise moment to be an ironic bastard.

Demon, of course, was the extreme. He was an Angemon who sought to be ruler of the kingdom. His brother, who was a Seraphimon and the prodigy of Alphamon's children, was heir of that kingdom. However, because Seraphimon sought a different type of rulership than Alphamon had in mind, he was regarded a tyrant and, despite his double agenda, Demon put Seraphimon to an end with the help of a mysterious voice. Demon, as an Angemon at that time, would then rise up to become a Seraphimon as well, and of course, the mysterious voice would continue to haunt him and twist him and bend him until he became the very definition of demon, thus named Demon itself. And as for Seraphimon, his older brother, he would be reborn centuries later as the partner of golden boy Takeru Takaishi.

Ken was the middleground. He had a moderately kind and considerate brother who loved him and looked out for him, who taught him and befriended him, but despite the good times, there were also a lot of hard times and a lot of fighting. Ken, just as Demon, was jealous of his brother's success, and as such, he made a bad wish, and his wish was granted. It was a wish he would later regret, a wish that set him off the deep end and into madness, only to be reeled back in by the soothing love and kindness of his partner and someday-friends. It was both his love and hatred for Osamu that drove him to madness, with the help of the dark spore, and it was also that love and hatred that drove him _from _madness, to atone for his sins as the Kaiser.

And Takeru, lovely boy, was the prodigy of the trio. Despite a few disagreements as most siblings sometimes had, Takeru and Matt had a relationship that defined all the good points of brotherhood, what it should be, and what it should not be.

Of course it was these three that destiny chose to entwine, because they were three who could understand each other more than anyone else. Demon, whose once-corrupt brother was reborn as Takeru's partner. Takeru's partner, the Digimon Of Hope, the opposing crest of Wrath, Demon's greatest sin. Ken, who was knocked aside easily by Takeru, whose greatest wrath was with darkness itself, a darkness the Kaiser sought to harness. Ken, who held a Dark Spore that could gain access to millions of corrupt digimon who Demon could rule, a Dark Spore he wished to obtain from the boy. And finally, Demon, who was tied to the two boys, who were tied to him, who were tied to each other.

As said before, as the four creatures stared at each other alone in the empty Dark Ocean depths, Demon couldn't help but recite one final time, _Destiny... is one _**ironic bitch**.

"Thought you couldn't come back, Demon," Takeru hissed between clenched teeth.

"We sealed you in the Dark Area!" Ken yelled, rushing through the silver sands and pointing a scraggly finger at Demon's face. Teeth clenched, he growled, "And don't think because I don't have my partner that I won't take you on anyway. I will if need be, I'm sick of seeing you."

"Demon..." It was the only thing Patamon managed to utter. It was odd, Demon thought, seeing Patamon up so close. He'd stayed far away from the digimon during his little detour to Earth, in order to not bring up any repressed memories the reborn digimon might have had. After all, Patamon had already died once before. It was rare when digimon remembered things from one past life, much less two past lives ago.

Even so, Patamon's eyes glazed over as he stared into the red glow of Demon's bulging eyes. And Demon, whose gaze rested on the two humans, merely gave a low, dark chuckle.

"I am sealed in the Dark Area," he said. "The Dark Ocean is a part of that Dark Area, and seeing as I cannot reach _your_ Earth, instead I have brought you to me. It's unfortunate that my efforts included your blond friend, though. It's a pity I'll have to kill his partner again."

Ken's brow furrowed, as did Takeru's. However, Demon lurched forward before either could comprehend his words, much less his movements. Raising a single hand with claws extending in yanked-sharpness from his cuticles, his arm plunged from the air and hurdled toward Patamon's wide-eyed face.

"Patamon!" Takeru screamed.

Demon didn't know why, or how, but just as his claws were two inches from Patamon's face, his arm stopped. His fingers twitched. His elbow shook. Nothing was holding him back, not even some invisible force, yet, swirling and pooling inside his chest, Demon knew that not even the mysterious voice could convince him to plunge those claws into the surprised face of his unknowing brother.

Seeing Demon hesitate, Ken dropped to his knees, panting, gobs of sweat dripping down his temples. Takeru didn't hesitate to lunge forward and rip Patamon from his place, moving just in time as Demon let go of himself and instead hit the sand where Patamon once was. Holding the rookie to his chest, Takeru glared at Demon, teeth clenched in a hiss.

Demon, though the three couldn't see it, smirked.

_How amusing..._ he innerly thought, suppressing a wince. _I can't kill him. It's almost touching._

"Except when you tried to kidnap Ken, I'm sure I've never seen you my whole entire life and I'm damn sure Patamon hasn't, either," Takeru snarled. "The reason I'm here is because YOU assisted GranDracmon in Hikari's abduction. Now you _will_ tell me where she is, or I will _obliterate_ you."

Demon's eyes fell half-lidded.

"Handsome," he muttered, sitting up-straight as he deadpanned and tossed a careless glance toward Ken. "You think you can harm me. Really, the Demon Lord of Wrath. I know it's been a few years since we faced each other, but you couldn't have grown this halfwitted in my absence. Now listen closely, Hikari was released by Leviamon. If she's not back on Earth yet, then I'd imagine someone _else_ is playing with her now, probably someone not as nice as Leviamon, either."

Takeru's eyes widened.

Demon again smirked, this time deeper, fangs glinting against the gray light – allowing them to glance at the superior energy that radiated from his skin, an invisible force that pushed against them, that heightened the gravity and weighted against their shoulders, made them feel like they were carrying the world on their chests. It was only a metaphorical power he held, a certain charm, that he was sure the two could feel.

After all, they'd just gotten wind that now their friend was in the hands of someone _else_, someone _worse_. It was heavy news.

_Perhaps they're wondering why I told them?_ He thought amusedly. _Shall I tell them?_

Takeru quickly regained his composure.

"Certainly didn't have to twist your arm for that," Takeru growled. "Tell me the truth."

"That is the truth," Demon replied nonchalantly. "Actually, I'm quite in need of your assistance."

It took a few seconds for his words to sink in.

"..._What?_" Both Ken and Takeru spoke at the same time, Patamon's jaw dropping to an almost unhinged state.

"You see... I have these _friends_. Six of them, in fact," he said.

"Yeah, we heard," Takeru growled. "One of your 'friends' kidnapped Hikari. Why the hell would we help you? Lilithmon is the one who started this!"

Demon laughed, darkly, malevolently. He reached through the darkness and grabbed Takeru by the wrist. The blond boy shouted out in surprise, Patamon calling his name, but Demon only lifted him from his feet into the air, examining the boy's size. Patamon – who'd toppled from Takeru's grasp – floundered in front of them and howled with rage, throwing attack after attack at Demon. However, the attacks didn't hinder him in the least. In fact, each attack reminded him of a bug smashed against a windshield.

"Lilithmon was not the one who took Hikari from you," Demon replied. Takeru's eyes widened, as did Patamon's and Ken's, but before he could continue, Takeru gave a ravenous scream of frustration as he pounded his foot into Demon's gut. Even so, his grip only tightened on the boy's wrist.

"Liar!" Takeru growled. "I SAW her take Hikari! She took my best friend! Give her back! GIVE MY FRIEND BACK TO ME. Gatomon... Gatomon's daughter... they've all disappeared, looking for Hikari! Give ALL of them back, it's your fault they're gone!"

All signs of amusement faded from Demon's eyes. Before, he didn't mind playing with the pathetic human. This was, after all, the human who managed to snag his older brother, and it was always amusing to examine such specimens. Ken he'd already examined to the point of knowing him better than the back of his own hand, studying the old Kaiser was dull now, nothing compared to seeing everything Takeru had become in the past years. That was only because, Demon realized, Takeru was his brother's partner, and Takeru had his own relationship with his older brother. They were on opposite ends of the spectrum; black and white; orange and blue; purple and yellow; red and green.

"It's not my fault Gatomon gave her soul to GranDracmon to find Hikari," Demon said. Immediately, Takeru stopped struggling. He was limp for a few seconds, pale, pal_ing_. "Why a female like Gatomon would give up something so precious for a pathetic, scumbitch _human_ is beyond me, though."

"You're lying." He shook his head. "Stop lying."

He didn't struggle this time. He didn't even put up a fight.

"Gatomon wouldn't do something like that," Patamon said a few feet away. He shook his head, defiantly stepping forward and snarling. "She'd find another way to find Hikari!"

"You'll believe whatever you want to," Demon said with a shrug. "Creatures like you always do, believing your friends are infallible. You'll never understand Gatomon's position until you, yourself, must choose between the person you love most and your own soul, let's see how strong you are when you decide between the two. It wasn't Lilithmon who abducted Hikari, it was GranDracmon, so he could lure Leviamon into his web of deception by granting Leviamon's greatest desire. Lilithmon didn't steal Hikari, because Lilithmon _is_ Gatomon, you fools. I can't blame you for thinking that, though. After all, GranDracmon is quite the mastermind. Ken."

As Takeru and Patamon stared agape at the figure, he turned his attention to the dark-haired boy. Ken hardly registered his words before he was torn toward Demon, who smiled toothily, his clawed hand reaching out to the human.

"Now that we've gotten that out of the way, I need your Dark Spore," he said bluntly. "It's the only way I can defeat GranDracmon. Give it up, or you all die and I'll get it _anyway_. Keeping you alive is just a favor for Lilithmon, but I don't mind angering her if it means a swifter _coup de grace_ deliverance to GranDracmon."

"Why should I believe you?" Takeru growled. "Why should any of us?"

"Silence, boy, I am no longer speaking to you and you have thoroughly worn out my patience," Demon snapped, focusing his attention now on Ken. Yes, he'd enjoyed observing Takeru for some time, especially after he realized Patamon was his reincarnated brother. However, now his patience and his time was thin, and the other Demon Lords would be expecting him back any moment. "The Dark Spore has several purposes. One, it can turn whoever it infects into a super-genius super-strong super-human if given the right amount of nurturing. Two, it can develop more seeds and implant itself into other digimon, giving them the same abilities while also allowing them to become more easily influenced by superior forces of darkness such as myself. Three, if implanted within that superior force of darkness, such as myself, it can allow me to tenfold – possibly even hundredfold – my own power."

"Right," Ken spat, suddenly his brow furrowed. The Ex-Kaiser was no longer silent, while Takeru and Patamon had resigned themselves to silently, blankly staring ahead, no longer a thinking entity but a white slate of vacant epiphany. Ken didn't waste any time trying to snatch them from their reverie, he knew what it was like to be in that place, he'd visited it many a-time himself. Now he just needed to speak to Demon, because he was the only one there strong enough to think clearly, to remember who he was, who he'd become, and who the Dark Spore made him into. "Yeah, like I'm going to give _you_ the Dark Spore. And what about when GranDracmon is done for? What'll happen then? I'll tell you what'll happen then, you'll try to conquer Earth and the Digital World."

Demon let out a roaring hiss. He tossed Takeru and Patamon into the ocean absentmindedly in his vapid hurdle toward Ken. His claws pressing against the boy's throat, he pinned him to the nearby cliffside, face so close he could feel the human's ragged breath on the tip of his nose. He'd expected Ken to flinch. The human hadn't even glared or hissed or winced. No, he only stared ahead, frowning, determined... unafraid.

Somehow, that only angered Demon more. It was as if the human hadn't recognized his sparse predicament, that all Demon had to do was press a little deeper and he'd lose an artery. He'd bleed to death and die within moments, possibly seconds depending on the deepness of the puncture (and knowing how impatient Demon was, he wouldn't be surprised if he plunged deep).

He let out a beastly snarl toward the human.

However, Ken only grinned in response, an old fire lighting his eyes.

Demon was shaking furiously, frustratedly.

"I've never desired to conquer this Earth _or_ Digital World," Demon growled. "I've already conquered countless Earths and countless Digital Worlds, this is the _only_ dimension whose Earth I cannot venture on. Do you understand that? I don't _care_ about your world. Most of the time, I do not even _bother _conquering dimensions, I just _destroy_ them. Ken, do you know my sin?"

Ken's jaw tightened. In the background, Demon saw from the corner of his eye Takeru and Patamon rising from the water, the human's hair sopping wet and clothes soaked to the bone, the digimon's ears struggling to flap beside his head. Both their heads perked up in false curiosity, while Ken merely tensed.

Yes, the boy was probing.

But he would never admit it. At least, out loud.

Demon knew this temperament. He'd put up with it nearly every single day since Barbamon joined their group of seven, the genius was always curious but never admitting to it, at least until he'd already gotten his answers, to which he'd act as if he'd always known. Smartass bastard.

Ken was very much like Barbamon.

But he was more similar to Demon, in ways he did not even know of, but now he would. He'd know all of it.

"My brother was a prodigy," he told the human boy. Instantly, Ken's eyes brightened. He knew immediately where this story was going. Yes, there was dread painting his gaze, his skin placid and draped in sweat. Demon grinned, and he was just close enough that Ken could see his bloodstained chompers glinting from the darkness of his hood as he pinned the boy. "He'd gained glory and fame long before me, and the adoration and favoritism of our father. He'd heard GranDracmon's voice from the beginning, and he soon wrought havoc upon the world, saying he would fulfill GranDracmon's wrath. But he was only a delivery boy, one that I, an Angemon, killed, when he was a Seraphimon. Though I'd originally blamed my desire on jealousy, I realized it wasn't something so petty. I wasn't envious. I wasn't greedy. I was just bloodthirsty. He'd garnered Father's love and power, and he used that love and power to ravage the Digital World. In truth, when I realized wrath was his intention, I realized it was also my own. I wanted to ravage the Digital World, too, because it didn't love me as it'd loved him, because I wasn't the prodigy, because I wasn't good enough.

"Again, I didn't envy him. I pitied him, because he was weak. I just wanted to hurt everything and everyone who had seen him do everything he did and hadn't done what I did before me. I realized both digimon and humans are a disgusting plague, one that lets weaklings reign over the privileged. So, as I stood above my brother, I told him, Ken, I said, 'You'll deliver his wrath, huh? Wrath, I like that, it sounds powerful'. In the end, I killed my brother, and he was reborn into that digimon right there."

He nodded backwards toward Patamon, who doubled-over and screamed something unintelligible that Demon didn't even try to decipher. He instead released Ken's neck, instead jolting him into Takeru and knocking both boys into the ocean floor. His voice a low rumble like thunder, he turned to raise his clawed hand toward the sky, eyes wide and red and blaring into the gray nothingness that surrounded them.

He chuckled.

A deep, cracking chuckle.

"Wrath," he said. "Wrath is my sin. I do not conquer, I just destroy. And GranDracmon was the digimon who gave my brother such power and fame in my world, and so, I will kill him, just as I killed my brother, just as I may someday kill him again. Now give me the Dark Spore before you know wrath, as well."

"You... killed your brother...?" Ken whispered, fists clenching into white-knuckled balls. Takeru was speechless, still mulling over all the other information he'd gained in less than five minutes. Just the knowledge that Lilithmon was, in fact, Gatomon, and that Hikari was now with GranDracmon was enough knowledge to keep him depressed for weeks, much less that his adorable partner was the brother of none other than _Demon_.

Patamon didn't seem all that surprised. Certainly a bit shocked, of course, but not completely astounded, and definitely not angry or frightened by the thought. In fact, he stepped forward, staring into the red eyes of the creature standing before him.

"You killed me, because I was trying to conquer the world," Patamon said. Somehow, it was both a question and a statement.

"I killed you during your attempt, not because," Demon hissed. "Don't slap a friendship label on me, I'm no longer your brother and my sense of justice is much different than your own. I killed you because people let you walk over them and I saw you as undeserving of that, because I was stronger than you as a champion, and I was tired of living beings. It doesn't matter anymore."

"It does, and we're still blood – our hearts are still connected," Patamon said. "Yes, we've both done bad things, Demon, but it doesn't have to end there. If I was able to start over... you can, too."

"I don't want to start over," Demon replied, turning toward Ken, who paled. "I like wrath. I like hurting people. I like my Nightmare Soldiers and I like being on a tight schedule. I also like meeting deadlines. Now, this is the last time I'll say it. Give me the Dark Spore and you can go free. Deny me again and I will kill you, then take it anyway. For good measure, I'll also make sure you die slowly, so you can watch me torture both Takeru _and_ my, heh-heh, 'ex'-brother."

"Don't, Ken—" Takeru softly whispered, voice breaking mid-word, his fingertips combing through the sand. Patamon curled against his thigh, hooves seeped in the sand, as he tried to block out the voices. He didn't want to hear it anymore, he didn't want to hear _anything_ anymore, at least not from Demon.

Demon knew they believed him and everything he said, they were eating it up. It was odd, because he wasn't what they considered a "good" guy, they considered him this hugely evil, creepy force sent to kill them. That just begged the question, why would they trust him?

He had the feeling that they knew he was telling the truth, but they'd deny it, because the truth was not only not what they wanted, but not even what they expected. And because of it, they knew, deep down, it was true. Sadly, agonizingly, painfully true.

"I... I can't..." Ken said, reaching up to brush his chest. "I don't even know how to get it out, and even if I did, you'd still use it to destroy our dimension. I can't let you do it. You can take my life, but I won't let you use it. I'll destroy it along with my body!"

They might have believed it.

But they also knew the deceptive forces of darkness, because they had seen it many times in the past.

And Demon was no different.

"Ah, that's too bad," Demon said, eyes falling half-lidded. "I'll have to buy Lilithmon some lilacs, now. Maybe a bouquet of red roses, with an apology attached. I'll give her some wine, or hard liquor. Whatever it'll take for her to forgive me."

"Demon..." Patamon whispered, squeezing his eyes shut.

Demon's shadow fell on the three Chosen, his arm raised and ready to strike, aiming for Ken's abdomen. He wouldn't let his past stop him now. Now that they knew everything, he imagined it would be particularly easy to destroy them, because he wouldn't have to worry about that foolish thing mortals called "closure". Now he'd tied up the loose ends, and it was time to gain his vengeance.

He marched toward Ken. Patamon jumped in front of the human boy, eyes fierce, determined not to let Demon harm Ken, as if it was his responsibility to protect not only his partner, but any human from his own brother. Demon wanted to believe that such a sacrifice wouldn't stop him.

He kept moving, closer and closer.

"Don't come any closer, brother," Patamon said, readily accepting his possible fate. "Or you'll be right, you'll kill me a second time. But I'm not afraid. Not anymore. I've already died once for a human I love, I'm not afraid to do it again!"

"Fine by me," Demon growled.

However, just as his arm was about to plunge, there was already a spray of blood.

Loud, archaic sounds of gasping.

Demon's arm stopped midair, paused, claws tinkering in the gray sunlight.

His eyes narrowed, as Takeru and Patamon gasped.

"Well, speak of the devil," Demon amusedly grunted, tilting his head to the side as his lips curled into a nefarious grin.

Standing behind Ken was none other than Lilithmon herself, her decayed, acidic arm launched into the back of Ken's neck. Ken was arched backwards, his eyes wide open, red veins webbing across his whites and extending even inwards of his irises. Her face was white as snow, expressionless, as red flecked her once-angelic figure.

"KEN!" Takeru screamed, rushing forward to tear him from Lilithmon's gasp. However, Patamon was completely immobilized by her actions, unable to move, to think, to realize. It was if he'd seen everything but hadn't yet processed that this was once his _friend_, his _comrade_, his _precious one_.

Demon pulled back his arm and folded only one arm across his chest, choosing to lean his elbow against it so that he could tilt his chin against his knuckles. Interest flickering in the depths of his Snow-White-Apple red eyes, he watched Lilithmon turn to Takeru and Patamon, her eyes briefly widening, recognition filtering across them like static across a television, before that same recognition dulled and muted back into the soullessness that was there before it.

"I warned them," Demon said, tapping his claw against the side of his own face. "But you know Destined, they just feel compelled to do the 'right' thing, whatever the hell 'right' is in a world of gray. I find it ironic, don't you? They try to separate things into black and white when everything here in neither, not the colors and definitely not the situations. They know who you are, by the way. I told them. Don't worry, though, I'll make it up to you."

"You told them?" Lilithmon snarled, her fingernails digging deeper into Ken's neck. Ken hissed in pain, but neither of the Demon Lords seemed to notice. Takeru was frozen between lunging forward to save his friend or staying back to assure she didn't rip his neck _off_. "What is your _problem_, Demon? You are such a—"

"It's not _my_ problem, that's _your_ problem, remember?" he tittered. "Of course I wouldn't worry about telling them. All you asked me to do was spare their lives! Oh, Lilithmon, don't you trust me anymore?"

"I never trusted you, you swotty little asspod," she hissed, strands of silky black hair winding in front of her face. Demon answered her with another throaty chuckle, but she merely sighed irritably and turned to Ken, who was quite visibly unable to move. Still breathing, but shallowly. She watched him for a while, examining his face, his clothes, his hair. She took in his scent as if to remember home, then closed her eyes and wrenched her hand from his neck. From it, she pulled a black sphere, which illuminated a black aura from between her fingerpricks. Without looking twice at the sphere, she turned to watch Ken as the boy fell face-first into the water, body motionless and unconscious, before she nodded at Takeru. "He'll live for now. Just get him the hell out of here."

Takeru watched her for a few seconds without a reply, without a single movement. Frustration flashing across her eyes, she then pointed nearby toward a portal summoned by Demon himself and roared, "HURRY UP!"

Takeru jumped and nodded, gripping Ken by the shoulders and pulling the human to his feet. However, before he could walk through the portal, he threw one last glance toward Lilithmon, who watched him go very cautiously.

"Gatomon..." he whispered. She didn't respond. Instead, she nodded, and, looking deep into the fierceness of her gaze, he knowingly nodded back. It took him two seconds to look from her to Patamon, still lying on the ocean floor watching Lilithmon, before he leapt into the vortex back to Earth. She followed his faded gaze to the rookie digimon and strode toward him, gracefully crouching beside the stiff digimon as he watched her.

"Gatomon—" he began, but she brought a hand to his lips to shush him.

"Angewomon and I are safe," she told him. "I promise I'll bring back Hikari. Just tell the others that they have nothing to fear. Now get going, before the vortex closes."

Patamon, wide-eyed, nodded, gaping at her figure. They watched, neither moving, neither speaking. They glanced from each eye to each eye before he stood and stepped toward the portal. She watched his back turn from her and the way the pink glow of the DigiPort reflected against his orange and off-white coat. Demon could tell she was thinking about their many times together, and the many digimon they must've faced together. Myotismon... Piedmon... BlackWarGreymon and all the foes of times past. _Easier_ times.

In fact, Demon theorized, he could imagine Lilithmon thinking back to the many, well, _demons_ both had to face – not only apart, but together. Patamon died facing Devimon, and Gatomon lost her most precious person beside Hikari – Wizardmon. Both lost something neither could ever get back, and it was through that loss that they'd bonded and grown so close.

He remembered when Lilithmon first found out Demon's connection to Patamon. She'd been shocked and even angered by the news, and though at times she'd tried to bond with him as a way of maybe feeling close to Patamon in some odd way, they'd never really grown close. Oddly enough, the only ones Lilithmon ever really talked to out of the Demon Lords were Lucemon, Barbamon, and Beelzemon. The rest she either ignored or talked to sparingly, or they preferred not to speak to her. She especially avoided Leviamon, for fear of ripping him apart just for _thinking_ about kidnapping Hikari.

Demon sighed, closing his eyes.

He only opened them to watch his brother fade into the vortex. While he admitted he could kill Patamon, there was a part of him – a part not unlike Barbamon or Ken – that was glad he didn't have to, and it was that part of him he couldn't admit. Not to Lilithmon, not to Patamon, not GranDracmon, and definitely not to himself. He could've killed Takeru and Ken easily, but it was Patamon...

Patamon whose face he hesitated to mar.

"Lilithmon," Patamon said, just as he was less than an inch from entering the vortex. She looked up, tensing, before she noticed the warm smile creasing his lips. Dimples formed, crow's feet signifying the sincerity already evident in his voice. He again nodded. "I miss you. Come home soon, okay?"

It wasn't what he said that caught her attention, Demon noticed. It was that he'd called her "Lilithmon" – _recognized_ her as Lilithmon, and, in his own way, accepted her as Lilithmon, that Lilithmon was now a part – a deep, inseparable – connection that was a single conundrum piece in Gatomon's neverending jigsaw puzzle. And, hearing those words spill from his lips, she reached up to grab her lips, but only after he'd disappeared behind the portal.

Demon didn't move toward her. Instead, he only watched, waiting as she regained her composure and shook her head willfully, wiping at her eyes before she turned back to him. He stared at her silently, but she only sneered back.

"Shut-up," she hissed, walking past him while holding the Dark Seed. "If you tell anyone about this, I'll shove this Dark Seed up your ass and hand it to Lucemon through the other end. Understand?"

Demon only gave her a swaggering grin.

"Yes, _ma'am_."

Together, the two Demon Lords walked, forming their own vortex to the home of the other Great Demon Lords, who awaited their arrival with the key to their victory. It was many years in the making, and now it was finally possible with the help of none other than Lilithmon.

**.+.**

It was many years ago that Demon murdered his brothers in the flaming cinders of his burning-down palace. It was the grandest palace in all of the Digital World, built by grandest digimon of all kinds, a Wisemon who sat upon the cryptic Necronomicon, each of his servants scurrying to gain the approval of the greatest of the Royal Knights, Alphamon. Alphamon also had many sons, though only two of who were of the Patamon-type, each holding potential beyond even their father's greatest imagination.

That night, when an Angemon managed to obliterate a Seraphimon, he watched the Seraphimon dissolve into fluttering butterfly data that rose to the skies in rippling splotches. He grinned, fingertips dancing with the blues and greens of Seraphimon's afterlife, his heart beating with the satisfaction that it'd been by his hand that now his brother was dead.

Angemon – who would later become Demon – was distracted by the grand vibrations that throttled beneath his feet. Tremors echoed and toppled pillars from their place, flame chinking and splintering wood and marble and stone. However, as Angemon stared deeper into the flame, he realized the splitting was only forming a door, one fiery and magnetic to the vision.

He wandered toward the flaming door, caught, almost enthralled.

He wasn't surprised when it opened to reveal a blond-haired creature quite overachieving in height and greatly muscled. Though he had never seen the figure before, Angemon knew instantly who it was.

The new figure's presence was drawing. It reminded Angemon of a moth being pulled to the light, and sometimes that light meant rest, and other times that light meant death. Angemon didn't know exactly which one GranDracmon was, but he did know that he, the angelic now-heir to Alphamon's throne, was the moth.

"Tell me, Master..." Angemon began, staring into the dark gaze of the new figure. "What is true death?"

Seraphimon's data danced around him, some entangled in his blond tassels of hair, others caught in his palm as he held it and stared into the glowing blues and teals. GranDracmon didn't respond at first, caught only watching with a wistful stare.

A second later and the dark digimon tilted his head to the side. "Death is a delivery boy. He eventually delivers to every house, or at least the ones that need mail. Sometimes his deliveries get returned, and sometimes they get accepted, and sometimes he forces acceptance. The important part is that mail, most of the time, is recycled, so it can be mailed again, but to a different residence with a different note and a different intent. Though, many times, the mail can't be recycled and re-delivered, and it decays."

"So my brother," Angemon began, "what kind of mail is he?"

GranDracmon remained silent for a while. Angemon watched the fire flicker in his black eyes, his arms firmly folded across his chest. He had a stiff disposition, like a bold father, and it was only when he turned to look up at the fading data that GranDracmon finally responded. His voice was a dark endless drawl that droned throughout the hall, as the world burned around the two of them.

Turning back to the demonic creature that thrived behind the shell of an angel, GranDracmon grinned hazily at Angemon and held up something that was taller than Angemon himself, yet it was only an arm. Its claws scraped the air, red and black, with a hard termite-like surface that shined. It didn't take long for Angemon to realize GranDracmon was holding the arm of Millenniumon.

Who knew how many times they could venture in – how many times they could turn the clock back – how many dimensions they could travel in and out of—

"Your brother..." GranDracmon dug the arm's claws into the ground at Angemon's feet.

"He's the kind that rots."


	13. Session Ten: Greed

**_THE DEMON CHRONICLES_**

**Disclaimer:** I am absolutely not making profit off of this fanfic—any infringement is not intended and never will be.  
**Rating:** PG-13 / T  
**Genre/s:** Adventure, Action, Drama, Romance, Tragedy, Horror  
**Currently Listening To:** "This Love" by Maroon 5  
**Description:** After murdering Simone, Barbamon spares her husband but abducts their daughter. She turns out to be quite different from her sweet mother, though.  
**Author's Note:** Last of the really really really long sessions, at least until the finale. :) I apologize for the lateness of this chapter, for some reason ff's having processing errors and won't let me upload the session... or anything else for that matter. I've tried it with multiple files on multiple computers; the only reason I was able to get this chapter up was because I'd already uploaded Wrath, so I copied/pasted Greed into Wrath's file instead. :( I've contacted the Support Team, so hopefully we'll be able to get this whole thing sorted out.

So, without further adieu...

**_The Demon Chronicles  
_****Session 10  
.Greed.**

At first, all he saw and all he heard was white.

Like static, filtering in and out, jostling and jolting, numbing and unnerving.

It stayed like that until he heard the skin-prickling high-pitched screams of Simone's daughter, pinning his eardrums against his heart as he looked up from the body kept in his arms. Inky red splotched the floors and the walls, staining the carpet and his robes. Barbamon froze. It was as if he hadn't even realized exactly what happened or why, or if this was even really his world anymore.

Actually, Earth had never been "his" world.

It had been _hers_, Simone's, and because Simone was his and all she had was therefore also his, he'd assumed so was Earth. Now that she was dead in his arms, what did that mean for him and this world? And most of all... what did it mean for those who loved her?

Another shrill cry, this time louder. Barbamon softly placed her at his feet, body limp and stiff and cold, before he turned to the bawling tot sitting only feet away from the corpse of her mother. Barbamon remembered the day Simone and Alex named their child – Alex wanted to name her after himself and his own father, despite being a girl. There was an Alex Sr. and an Alex Jr., and he wanted an Alex the third. Simone, however, wanted to begin a new cycle. She wanted to name the girl after _herself_, and Alex, not one to do the conventional, agreed.

Simone's daughter was also named "Simone".

She looked a lot like Simone, as well.

Her hair... her cheekbones... her eyes... the way she puckered her bottom lip as she cried, holding her face in her hands, her chest puffed out as the tears filled and fell. Barbamon knew just by looking at the small girl that she would grow up to look almost identical to her mother, with perhaps only her father's chin and nose – but that would not quell her beauty in the least.

As the girl continued to cry, palms pressing against the reddened carpet as she began to crawl toward her mother's body, Barbamon unremittingly scrutinized her. He couldn't take his eyes off the small child. Her hands... so small, so delicate, just like her mother's. As Simone II continued to crawl, there was a sudden pause in her movements. Barbamon leaned forward in a half-crouch. He briefly wondered why she stopped. He was answered when she sat down and bobbed her head curiously to the right, then looked down at her hands, staring at the garnet hue that slathered across them.

He narrowed his eyes. Didn't grin, didn't frown. The girl had never seen so much blood in her life, he was sure. Whenever Alex and Simone Senior went deer-hunting or evil-hunting, they'd always left their child home; beyond that, even when hunting, there was rarely so much blood even then. The young girl continued to stare at her ruddy palms before turning back to her mother. She clumsily reached forward and planted her bloody palm on her mother's cheek, smearing red, and cocked her head curiously to the right, opposite of where it'd been while she'd studied the blood.

"Mama," the small girl muttered. "Mama?"

She again planted her hand on her mother's face, newborn and frail, but this time for longer.

"Simone, come to me," Barbamon ordered, voice scratchy and firm. Little Simone didn't respond at first. She just stared, not at anything in particular, only the stillness of Barbamon's ex-object of affection. Instead, the small toddler's brow furrowed, the light in her eyes unable to understand the dullness of her mother's.

"What wrong wit' Mama?" she asked. Her face finally lifted from its spot to view Barbamon in full. The Demon Lord of Greed raised his chin and folded his arms in front of him. He could see from the reflection in the young girl's eyes that he looked cold at that moment. Not cold as in frozen or chilly – but frozen as in apathetic, completely without any doubt, jaded.

He huffed and stepped forward, picking up the young girl from her bloody puddle. She sniffled, eyes red and glassy, but Barbamon only reached forward to place two fingers tenderly on her lips to shush her.

"Mama is dead," Barbamon told the young girl. "Now be a good girl and stay quiet."

"Dead?" The toddler tilted her head. "Dead...? What dead?"

"I said quiet," Barbamon repeated. His tone lowered. Little Simone was a particularly obedient girl, one of the types that wouldn't give her parents gray hairs if she could help it. They'd predicted that since she was a baby, only crying when something was needed, hardly ever fussy. She listened to her parents and her parents' partners without question, even scary 'ole Barbamon, who was a "decrepit long-bearded demon-eyed grump" as the older Simone liked to put it (not that her daughter knew what most of those words were, but it was still one of her favorite affectionate names for Barbamon, who'd never been fond of it himself).

And, as the young girl almost always did when told to, she quieted herself all except for one word:

"Daddy."

Barbamon barely had time to turn around before there was another feeling that struck the cold numb flesh he'd gained since murdering Simone. It infiltrated his back and lanced itself through his pelvic bone, audibly cracking bone and splattering blood, but he didn't scuffle or trip or falter, especially with little Simone in his arms.

All that echoed was the resounding **_CRRRRRRAAAAACK_** that filled the room.

Specks of red dotted the young girl's face.

That was when Simone Junior began screaming.

"_Alex_—" Barbamon snarled, twisting in the human's direction as he and his partner, Coredramon (a lesser evolution than Examon), stood at the doorway staring Barbamon in the eye. Alex was quietly sobbing, his fists clenched, his face scrunched up in a purple-blooded snarl.

Barbamon didn't have much time to question before he held little Simone closer to his chest, clasping onto her tightly, as he glared at the human man. At the same time, the girl's crying was quickly getting on his nerves.

"Get the HELL away from my daughter, you bastard!" Alex roared, holding up a pistol and aiming it for Barbamon's head. Coredramon readied another attack, one aimed at Barbamon's lower body, as to not hit Simone instead. "God, she _trusted_ you... we ALL trusted you. I knew you were jealous of me, but—she was your _partner_, you were supposed to _protect_ her! She loved you!"

"Shut-up, boy," Barbamon growled. His voice crumpled with gravel and raw scratches, half-broken half-incredulous. "You have no idea what you are talking about."

"_Of course_ _I know what I'm talking about, _she was my **_WIFE_**." He clutched tighter onto the gun. "Now let Simone GO."

"It is a bit too late for that, don't you think?" Barbamon replied. His voice suddenly weaved with a sense of both amusement and, somehow, in the dark ironic depths of it all, humility. Little Simone looked away from her father to stare at Barbamon, though only he and Alex shared a distant stare. "Both for my partner, and for my partner's daughter."

"You bastard, don't you dare!" Alex ran forward, no longer caring, throwing the gun aside as he threw back his elbow in an effort to gain momentum for one hell of a punch. Barbamon was ready for him, though. Provoking a human that didn't need much provocation in the first place was easy, especially for a creature with such intelligence as Barbamon. Alex might have had a strong digimon, but he was just as human as any of the other disgusting rats on Earth, and Barbamon had no problem hurting him.

Watching Alex's fist catapult through the air was the last thing Simone's Barbamon saw. When his fist met face, toppling the digimon a few feet backwards, his arms still gripping Simone in a vice hold that not even Alex himself could get her out of, a new Barbamon was born. One that was sympathetic toward Alex's cause, but one that was no one's, not even Simone's. He was not Simone's partner, just as Simone was not his.

The Barbamon she and her family knew disappeared a long time ago. Alex's punch was just the right amount of kick-in-the-ass that he needed to make sure that Barbamon never came back. When Barbamon finally looked up after the punch to stare Alex in the end, his lips curled into a sinister grin, his voice lowered a few pitches, his muscles tensed and his clawed fingers sunk against Younger Simone's back.

Though the girl didn't wince, she shifted, biting her bottom lip.

Alex gritted his teeth, waiting for Barbamon to make his move. However, the Demon Lord never did.

"Do not be stupid," Barbamon said lightly. He even chuckled. "Well... stupid_er_."

"Don't you dare insult my intelligence, not like that, not right now," Alex growled. "You took my wife's _life_! You're—using my daughter as a hostage—and—"

"Hostage? Oh dear, you think I am holding her like this because I value my life above hers?" Another chuckle. Deepening. "Quite to the contrary, she is all that is left of Simone now... I am holding her like this because I am taking her with me. You will never see her again. And what will you do, boy? What can you do, without Simone here to shackle me?"

"Coredramon," Alex grumbled, turning toward the digimon. "Time for Examon."

"Hmm, perhaps I should have to turn my earlier statement around— it is not necessarily that you are stupid, Alex, it is that you believe _I _am stupid," Barbamon grunted, holding up a palm toward the duo. Young Simone began to quietly cry, her tears rolling down her cheeks, body trembling as Barbamon held her tightly to him. Barbamon could tell the girl wanted to run to her father, but he couldn't allow that. He wouldn't. And she would listen to him, because she was a good girl. "One powerful partner is not enough to kill me, especially _your _partner. I have sparred with that digimon and every time I win, I know his weaknesses. And most of all, I know yours."

His grip tightened on little Simone.

Alex whimpered, not dog-like or angrily, just whimpered, shaking his head, body trembling.

"This is goodbye," Barbamon said. "I will spare you this time because it is what both Simones would want. But... if destiny will have it that we should meet again... do not think I will spare you or your partner if that time comes."

With that, a massive orb of chinking, thundering energy manifested in the center of his palm and hurled forward without a single second of comprehension. It thrusted through the shoulder of Coredramon, knocking him aside, and hurdled right into the wall behind him, creating a massive hole. Still carrying the small girl, Barbamon grunted and rushed through it as Simone threw herself to Barbamon's shoulder and peered at her father's stiff form from behind, herself clinging to Barbamon for dear life.

She called out for daddy, daddy, _daddy!_ Her hand reached out, her hair flailed in the gales that Barbamon's swift form created, her tears fell from their salty confines onto the cloth of Barbamon's shoulder.

And, when Alex faded into the background and she realized Barbamon wouldn't turn around to drop her off home, within his hands Simone withered like a rose in autumn.

**.+.**

As the years passed and Simone grew older, she thought about the many things she never did with her mother. Eventually, she forgot everything _about_ her mother; her smell, her smile, the way her hair burnished in the sunshine. She forgot her mother's voice and how it sounded when she sang lullabies, and she forgot the warmth and tenderness her mother demonstrated when she held her. She even forgot her mother's death, or maybe there was a part of her that repressed it.

The only thing she remembered were the tears. When Simone was really young, so young the memory had long disappeared beyond the surface of her mind, her mother gave her a tippy cup during a car ride "Up North". It was one of the rare times Simone was being fussy because of how cramped her legs were, with what little space there was between Dracomon and Barbamon and their luggage and even their new puppy. Simone's mother had twisted around from the front seat and gave her daughter a sweet, gentle smile, the orange-colored cup tipping toward her face as she filled it with juice.

At least, that was what the younger Simone imagined. What she wanted to happen. It was such a happy thought.

Though the younger Simone didn't remember that moment, she still had the cup. She didn't know how many times she'd made that moment up in her mind, or if that was even how her mother gave it to her. All she knew was that her mother gave her that cup when she was young, and that it was her favorite cup when her mother died.

The tears would keep forming and falling, she knew. She couldn't stop them at first – forming and falling, forming and falling – and then there was the part of her that didn't want to stop them – forming and falling – and, when they did stop, she realized she'd never get her mother back – forming and falling, forming and falling – she'd never see her father or Coredramon again – forming and falling, forming and falling – and in their place, was Barbamon.

Just Barbamon.

Barbamon, and the voice in her head.

Now, by the time Simone turned sixteen, she was still traveling with Barbamon. They'd gone dimension-to-dimension, visiting realms and Earths and Digital Worlds all over the place. She enjoyed traveling, so eventually she'd gotten used to it. Eventually, Barbamon became the face of her parents. He didn't hide the fact that he killed her mother and kidnapped her from her father. He didn't hide the fact that he could kill her if she tried to leave.

But she wasn't scared.

Simone, after all, had done some pretty bad things with Barbamon. Pillaged cities, attacked families, been called a "Crazy Bitch" a number of times (she was beginning to think it was an official nickname), knew how to wield a variety of weapons... not that wielding weapons was a bad thing, if you used them for self-defense. She loved leather and she loved the feel of a purring engine, loved the feel of the wind whipping against her face and her back.

She didn't enjoy hurting others. But she did enjoy allowing her bloodthirsty tendencies out. No one dared to defy her lest they suffer Barbamon's wrath, and even if she didn't have Barbamon, she was still an angry, wild and untamable force in the eyes of many.

Barbamon could snap her neck without even touching her.

She wasn't scared.

Most of the time, she wanted to leave. She couldn't deny that.

Despite it, she also couldn't deny that Barbamon wouldn't kill her even if she tried.

Because she looked almost exactly like her mother, and Barbamon, though he would never admit it, loved her mother, and loved her very dearly.

_Simoooooan_.

It was the voice again.

It was disembodied, one that floated in her ears, one that echoed in her mind. She didn't look up or respond. She knew the voice already caught her interest, and the voice knew that, as well. Of course it did, it as in her mind.

_Simone... don't you want to find your father?_

Of course she did.

Forming and falling. Forming and falling.

_You know the only way to do that, don't you?_

Of course she did.

Of course.

_Then do it. Then you can get your life back, and I may have Barbamon's._

The voice was always a very greedy voice. Yet, sometimes, it was also angry, or cocky, or lazy. Depending on the day, sometimes it was raunchy or hungry – hungry for something, anything, just for _more_, more than enough, _much_ more than enough. The voice was jealous of her time with Barbamon, yet coveted her happy past with her father and mother and their two partners, even though she didn't remember those times. Barbamon was now nothing but a bitter, avaricious old man.

One who did not consider her feelings or her past, one who turned away at the forming and falling, one who cared only for himself and the woman she saw in the mirror. A woman she recognized only vaguely, a woman she saw not as herself, and that scared her. It scared her a lot, because the woman she saw was killed by the person she trusted most.

_Your mother trusted he wouldn't kill her until the day he did._

Simone's clutch tightened into a fist as she sat upon the hotel bed, waiting for Barbamon to return from his evening out with apparent "associates". She swallowed hard as the voice spoke. She suddenly felt how empty the room was – with two beds, a television set, two corner tables and a small kitchen, it was hollow inside. Quiet. Leaving her alone, just her and the voice.

The voice roughly tittered.

_Why should you know he won't kill you if you leave?_

Her gaze flickered to the door.

_Your mother did leave him. And he wanted her. He just wanted her, and he could not have her. He couldn't, and now she'd dead._

The doorknob twisted.

_What are you going to do?_

The bronze hinges squealed.

_It's under the bed if you need it, Simooooooan_.

She bit her bottom lip, trickles of sweat dotting her temples.

_It's okay to want your life back._

The wood slid from the frame, and a black boot slid between the slice of air. A white-bearded figure followed, face creased by wrinkles, eyes blaring with a red glow. Something like a roman nose being broken at least ten times peeked from behind the door, and a clawed hand followed.

Simone was sitting on the bed.

She wasn't afraid of Barbamon.

But she also knew what he was capable of. Before the voice began speaking to her, she thought she also knew what he was _not_ capable of. Barbamon could destroy whole worlds if they didn't give him enough money, and he could destroy whole dimensions if they didn't give him enough power. Everywhere they went, they were treated as gods. Or, at least, _Barbamon_ was, and Simone by default.

And, as Barbamon scuffled through the door, she felt the voice fade from her mind.

**.+.**

"Simone, get over here," Barbamon grunted, closing the door behind him as his eyes dully narrowed at her pale, wide-eyed form. "And get it together, you look like Bakemon."

Bakemon? _Ew._

"Um, right," she said quickly, standing up. She tossed one glance toward the underside of the bed – semi-curiously – before she shook her head and wiped away at her ears, stepping toward the kitchen. Seeing Barbamon pull out a mixture of items from a paper bag he'd carried in with him, she grinned a little, leaning above the bag to closely examine his face. He arched an eyebrow at her, but she only giggled and said in response, "Well, at least I don't look like Sukamon."

"I do not look like Sukamon."

"If Sukamon was old."

"I am not old."

"But you look old," she teased. "That's even worse, if you look old already but you're not old. Besides, you _are_ old, you've been around for _how_ many centuries?"

"I was destroyed by Tsurugi in one dimension and reborn in this one around the time that Earth found out about digimon," Barbamon recited. He hadn't told her _that_. He'd just said he'd been around a few centuries – she didn't realize it'd been _that_ many. "It was two years before Takaishi Takeru's novel was published and Izumi Koushiro began that digimon relations corporation."

"Holy crap, I knew you were older than dirt, but _damn_!" she scowled. "Yggdrasil, when was that? Like, a thousand years ago?"

Barbamon spluttered.

"500 years, you dimwitted idiot! And I have told you 47 times not to use Yggdrasil's name in vain."

"Psh, so what. And that's _half_ a thousand." She blew a raspberry. Barbamon only eyed her with a slanted glare, face scrunched up, despite her playful demeanor. He had a habit of doing that, but it only made it more fun. It was rare when he took real offense to anything she said, though – probably because she rarely meant what she said to him.

When she didn't say anything beyond that, Barbamon shrugged and pulled out two food items Simone had ever only seen _maybe_ two times in her whole life. One was a box of ice-cream cones. The second was actual green mint chocolate chip ice-cream.

Her eyes bugged out of her skull.

"You bought ice-cream?!" Her hands grabbed the carton and swung it in front of his face. "...You got _mint?_"

"Of course I got mint," he grunted.

"You know I don't like mint things," she replied.

"Altoids are different from mint ice-cream."

"It's not just Altoids that bug me, every mint I've ever tasted always makes me gag, even if it's 'weak'," she mumbled. "And it makes my face swell up. Do you think that's an allergic reaction?"

"It is not – it is you merely believing you are allergic, so it happens," Barbamon grunted. "If you are disturbed by something enough, it usually happens to you. It is just a mental thing. The only thing you are allergic to is bees and peanuts, otherwise I would disown you. You will live, now eat."

He snapped his fingers. Both the carton and the cones popped open on their own, floating midair without a pause. They scooped and piled on by themselves as Simone and Barbamon waited, arguing over her eating mint ice-cream. She really was not in the mood. At least, for mint ice-cream. He could buy _anything_, why would he buy mint when he knew she despised mint?

She folded her arms in front of her and narrowed her eyes in a glare when the ice-cream cone hovered in front of her face. "Don't think I'm not grateful you actually bought something sugary. As a teenage girl, ice-cream is naturally my best friend, especially when you don't allow me to have any _actual_ friends. But mints make me throw-up and I am not eating it."

"Eat it, or I will never buy ice-cream again."

"You'll buy ice-cream because, even though you won't admit it, you _like_ ice-cream." She raised an eyebrow. "I've seen you smile when you look at it."

"_Eat it._"

"No."

"Mint was your mother's favorite flavor."

That was it.

"Newsflash? I'm NOT my mother."

And apparently, that was also it for Barbamon.

"You are right, you are not," Barbamon snarled. Instantly, both their ice-cream cones fell to the tiled floor and broke upon impact, green splotches staining the off-white bottom as they flicked against their shoes. Simone grunted and turned her face away from him, but he turned her face back toward his. "YOU are a spoiled teenage brat who is not grateful for anything she has been given. YOU are a spoiled teenaged brat who was _supposed_ to be a Simone-Clone, but you are evidently nothing like your mother, because your mother was brighter, kinder, prettier – your mother accepted everything I gave her with a smile, even the times she did not like what it was."

_Snap._

"Yeah, she also accepted your _claws through her chest_ with a smile, too. You expect me to be like my mother? _She's the last person I want to be_. Though, I do have _one_ thing in common with her – _you're_ the last person I want to be _with_."

_fffffwwwwwww_

Barbamon's hand rose to the air, two inches away from her face. Simone winced, ready for the strike – but it never came. Simone had learned at a young age to never talk back to Barbamon. It wasn't because he hit her. Quite to the contrary, he'd never laid a hand on her. But it was because she _knew_ what he could do. She knew when she was little and watched him kill her mother. Even when she forgot how her mother died and what it looked like, how the blood looked on her hands, she didn't forget the innate instinct to shut her mouth and listen. The few times she didn't listen to Barbamon as a child, he hadn't taken his aggression out on her – he'd take it out on the village they were staying in, blowing buildings up, smacking around men with guns who didn't do an ounce of damage. If Simone was a brat, others would pay for it.

And Barbamon, arm trembling as he battled with the urge to hit her, stared her in the eye.

She blinked back her flash of fear as she realized the hit never came. Comprehending he was still fighting with the idea, she hissed and barreled toward the bed – the bed where the voice told her "it" was, how "it" could get her life back. She had no idea what was going on or why, all she knew was what she wanted and that Barbamon had almost hit her, and that he'd _hurt_ her, hurt her inside, just as she'd hurt him that moment he was seconds away from hitting her.

They'd hurt each other.

"FINE," she bellowed, ripping out a heavy-set pistol from its case under the bed. Barbamon roared angrily as he realized exactly what kind of weapon it was (_oh shit,_ Simone innerly thought, _This fricker's an Omegamon Blaster – this mother can blow half a world apart!_). Even so, she'd been wanting to fight back for a few years now. He'd never physically harmed her and she'd quickly learned that most of his verbal jabbing was just teasing, but their "relationship" was never really healthy in the first place.

She _was_ known as a crazy bitch, anyway.

And she shouldn't even get _started_ on how crazy and messed up Barbamon was.

"Fucker go BOOM," she howled, pulling the trigger of the gun. There was a blue glow that shot forward, exploding in a rain of arctic fire and sparks.

The next thing she saw was red.

---

_When Simone was seven, she dreamed about her mother a lot. She remembered one time she'd tried to talk to her mother, but when the older Simone turned around, she had glowing yellow eyes and long claws. Mini Simone quickly realized there was something seriously wrong with her when the demonic image of her mother didn't disturb her, because she woke up next to Barbamon everyday._

_He never did anything perverted in regards to her, didn't even seem to look at her that way. But there was the fact that he raised her, and he was scarier than seeing her mom with glowing eyes and monster hands. In the dream, she just giggled and, as if not realizing she was in a dream, she told her mother, "You silly, I don't remember you with those!"_

---

The red splattered her clothes, the walls. There was a low moan, one that echoed in her ears. There was a voice that filled her head again. It was _that_ voice, the disembodied asshole who liked to fill her brain with the most devious thoughts. Of course, anyone else raised by Barbamon would've had worse thoughts a lot more often than the vixen, but sometimes... she couldn't deny that the disembodied voice suggested so many fun ideas.

Like blowing Barbamon's brains out, or letting him die painfully and slowly as he watches her walk away.

Wouldn't that just be terrible?

From behind, Simone looked exactly like her mother. Yes, if she walked away, Barbamon would see the older Simone walking away as well, with a cheeky little grin and _his_ blood covering _her_ as he chokes on his own intestines.

---

_Even so, when little Simone awoke from her nightmare, she crawled up closer to Barbamon and hugged him. He grumbled half-awake and mentioned something about getting the hell off, but when she only held more tightly onto him, he opened his eyes in a half-lidded fashion and stared at the seven-year-old for as long as she permitted._

"_I... had a nightmare..." she squeaked._

_Barbamon continued to stare. He then groaned and closed his eyes, accepting her reason without a fuss, and wrapped his arms around the tiny girl in a protective, fraternal embrace. She smiled softly to herself and closed her eyes, as well._

_She didn't remember what else she dreamed about that night, but Simone did know she never dreamed about her mother again after that._

---

The noise was loud enough to shatter her eardrum. She heard only ringing for what felt like minutes, the jerk of the gun bouncing her against a wall that splintered behind her. As she fell, the gun floored it at her side, and her face swiftly bent up to see the damage.

It was Barbamon she heard next, groaning.

"You're still alive, you asshole?" she muttered, lips curling into an amused grin. Her eyes bulged, teeth glinting, her muscles straining as she shuffled to a stand. "_Yggdrasil_, you just won't die."

"Ugh, screw you," Barbamon hissed, hobbling toward her as he held his side.

One half of his stomach was completely torn from his body. She could see all the contents inside, hanging out, organs and steaming innards. Entrails strung below Barbamon's stiff body, a bloody pool trailing behind him as he crawled toward her. She wheezed and grabbed her mouth, muffling a shrill bellow of laughter. She could hear him lightly chuckle, much to her chagrin.

"You are lucky you are Simone's daughter..." he heaved, limping toward her. She glanced frantically between Barbamon and the door, eyes slowly widening bit by bit, as blood streamed from the corner of his mouth. He gave another scraggly laugh, claws outstretched. "Now... stay quiet and come here... come to me, Simone..."

His fingers brushed her cheek. Streaks of blood blurred across her fair skin, running down her cheekbones to her chin. He choked down a breath and stumbled, fingers twitching wildly, as she stared with bulging eyes.

She was almost certain he was dead, or close to it.

Instead he was _still standing_, staring her in the eye, _laughing_ despite all the blood spewing from his body, and the debris and wreckage that surrounded them just from one bullet.

"I can't die..." he half-choked half-growled. Though she didn't take his hand, she did reach forward – through the grime, through the blood – and, as he had her, raked her fingers against his cheek. What she felt there and she thought she saw was different, though, different than what she thought she'd see, something she'd never seen in her life coming from Barbamon. She'd seen him bleed and she'd seen him scream, but never this. He let out a low, soft laugh, both venomous and incredulous, not of her, but of himself.

"Barbamon—" she said gently.

"I... can't meet her again yet... I..."

"They're forming," she whispered, cupping his cheek in one of her hands. "They're falling."

"What?" he said, tilting his head to the side, like a young child discovering blood for the first time. "No... I..."

However, mid-word, his voice broke, and his hand fell from her face. Simone didn't stop Barbamon as he descended face-first into a puddle of his own blood, body limp and stiff as her mother's the day she died. Simone continued to watch him as he closed his eyes. He wasn't ready for death. Though a part of her desperately wanted him to know what the sweet end was, there was another part of her – a part that wanted him to suffer – and another part, deeper than the glass surface, that wanted to see him smile again.

A part that wanted to shoot him again, this time in the heart, right where he'd clawed through her mother.

She left him unconscious for a while. She sat on the bed (or, at least, what remained of the bed after the blast), waiting for digimon to rush inside the room to see the commotion. Somehow, they never came. Everything was mute but for the sound of his shallow breathing, quiet and dreamlike, and despite his horrendous wound, nothing wavered, nothing disappeared. Not his data, not his unconscious tears.

Soon she felt a firm hand rest on her shoulder.

"You couldn't kill him."

She twisted around to see a tall digimon with blond hair rolling past his shoulders, connected to the body of a dark horse-like creature. On each of the creature's jointed appendages rested a shark-like head with bloodied fangs that snapped and caterwauled at her as she sat. Though she'd never met the digimon formally before, she knew who he was: the voice in her head, the man whose voice haunted Barbamon's mind, the creature who was the cause for their darkened lives. Barbamon was his instrument and she just a small piece of the jigsaw puzzle.

She snorted, but didn't reply.

He only grinned through his vampire daggers.

"That's alright, death will come to him one way or another," the monster said. He bent down so his breath could tickle her ear, his voice a low whisper. What he said was quiet, despite how his words thundered through her mind. "How would you like to meet _the_ Yagami Taichi and Motomiya Daisuke, Simone? I could bring you, you know... to a time when Barbamon didn't matter."

She paused to consider his offer.

"Will Barbamon be there?"

His smirk widened.

"Well... he won't be _there_-there," the digimon replied. "But he _will_ follow us through time. Space. Dimensions. I need him, but in order to use him, I need you. Maybe, if you come, I'll even bring you back to your mother."

That was the last thing she needed to hear. It was the only thing she needed to know.

_...Mama..._

**.+.**

"So... you're Barbamon, are you?"

"Obviously, you disgusting pussboil."

"Heh, well, quite a tongue for someone covered in intestines, sleeping in his own blood. Something tells me this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship, at least once you realize I am quite superior to you."

"You are young and pathetic."

"You're old and weak."

"Weak? Hold your tongue, half-angel, my power has destroyed and conquered dozens of dimensions."

"I know it has. That's why I've chosen you, Barbamon."

"...Chosen...?"

"My name is Lucemon, and...

"Well, I hear we have a common enemy."


	14. Session Eleven: Envy

_**THE DEMON CHRONICLES**_

**Disclaimer:** I am absolutely not making profit off of this fanfic—any infringement is not intended and never will be.  
**Rating:** PG-13 / T  
**Genre/s:** Adventure, Action, Drama, Romance, Tragedy, Horror  
**Currently Listening To:** "Silhouettes" by Smile Empty Soul  
**Description:** Leviamon is offered humanity. He has to make a choice: Friendship, or Envy?

_**The Demon Chronicles  
**_**Session 11  
****.****Envy****.**

In the Digital World when faced against the Crests, Envy's opposite was Friendship.

This was something Leviamon had known for a long time. He'd found it odd that he never really had a fascination with Ishida Yamato nor Motomiya Daisuke, but instead, he'd found himself focused on someone the both of them were quite intent on protecting. Her name was Yagami Hikari, and she was his friend. At least, he would have liked to call her one.

That was ultimately why, after he'd briefly kidnapped her, he'd released her. It was because he'd felt that friendship swell with sunlight warmth, a swathe of generating heat. And, in the end, when he realized his troubles had meant nothing in the long run because she'd been kidnapped again by GranDracmon moments later, Leviamon was less than pleased.

You see, Leviamon is a monster who could change his size.

Easily.

Sometimes, he was the size of not one planet, but _several_. People said he could reach the scale of three Mercuries or even three _Jupiters _if he so wished it, magnanimously shifting his magnitude from the enormity of a towering lighthouse to that of a world-snatching star-snacking beast. Leviamon was one of the few digimon who didn't need oxygen (or, at least, the oxygen available on Earth or the Digital World), and some mystical ancient beings in several parallel universes once mistakened him _as_ a planet before he woke up and ate them.

That was times past, however.

Now he chose to hide himself within the Dark Ocean, only long enough to find the thing he'd looked for his whole entire life.

The one...

The only one...

For the longest time, he thought that "one thing" was Hikari.

It was her light that graced his heart and taught him to change; his sun-breathing guide in the night, the moon's silver glow beckoning him from the shadows, the sun's reflection against the perilous stars. Leviamon had desired only Hikari's recognition, and when he realized he could do nothing but let her go in order to please her, he followed his heart and gave her the freedom she desired.

Of course, it was GranDracmon who ripped that freedom from right beneath her feet and brought her to a place that Leviamon was not aware of.

He contacted the other Demon Lords as swiftly as he could; several agreed to help him find her, including Demon (though Demon was more interested in contacting Ken Ichijouji, which was easily why he volunteered) and Lilithmon (whose purpose was more obvious that Leviamon's). They recently split up the work. Demon was to attain the Dark Spore, Lilithmon had to rake information from Myotismon (an underling of GranDracmon's), while Leviamon was due to interrogate his least favorite acquaintance.

This "acquaintance" just happened to be MetalSeadramon, who was not only a Dark Master, but also another underling of GranDracmon. He was also the murderer of Leviamon's clan, who'd slain Leviamon's very mother and father right before his eyes, leaving the Leviathan Empire in ruins beneath the ocean deep. In the end, Leviamon had risen up, and in trying to end the Leviathan Lineage, MetalSeadramon had created the most deadly Leviathan Monster yet.

The very Great Demon Lord himself.

However, the only problem with Leviamon's interrogation was that it never arrived. In fact, in MetalSeadramon's place, _another_ creature had manifested from the depths of nothingness and tore Leviamon's attention from Hikari's location. Instead, he focused only on the figure in MetalSeadramon's stead, a figure who stepped out from the dark smog and curled his divine fragrant lips in a corpse-cold smile.

"_GranDracmon_," Leviamon snarled. "Return Hikari to me. NOW."

"She's in a safe place," GranDracmon tittered. "Of course I'd keep her alive and well... she is the only one who shackles you to me, after all. Lilithmon still has other things to play with, like the other Destined, like _our_ daughter AngeWomon, like her best friend MagnaAngemon, or her partner's brother, Taichi. Lilithmon can bear to separate from Hikari, even if she doesn't believe so. You, however, have always envied the other Demon Lords for having the gift of great friends in their pasts. You envied that they could hold such adoring gifts but _abuse_ that gift for power, or greed, or revenge. You're the only one who's lost everything and everyone, Gennai's the only one besides Hikari who remains, and Gennai would never recognize you."

Leviamon _snapped_.

His jaws – elongated and red as a dragon's fiery scales – lurched through the darkness and plunged toward the smaller creature. GranDracmon only howled with laughter. His hands flicked something in the distance, something dark and crippling-purple manifesting from the wall to attach itself to Leviamon.

Before Leviamon could even consider his predicament, the Thing latched onto him, _sucking_ him into the black and pitless purple that soon swallowed him whole. Leviamon screamed, tails billowing, and GranDracmon followed him into the vortex of darkening colors.

Leviamon soon realized he was alone in space with GranDracmon. A wide, vast darkness flickering with silver sand grains – no, _stars_ – and the crumpling cosmos that surrounded them.

_What is he playing at...?_ he growled. _He knows I can enhance my magnitude and eat him whole. If I gauge my power right, I can eat a whole dimension if I wish to. Is he trying to provoke me into a fight?_

"I'm here to offer something to you, Leviamon – a once in a lifetime opportunity, other than forming the Seven Great Demon Lords." GranDracmon gave a hunched bow, lips bent into a stitched-lip scarecrow grin. Leviamon didn't reply. He only watched the man laugh into the back of his hand, amused by the Demon Lord's display of quiet. "Hikari really is the one thing you desire most, is she not? The 'thing' you've always been searching for, your whole entire life, to make you feel fulfilled...?"

Leviamon didn't reply.

He knew GranDracmon by now. It was GranDracmon who offered Leviamon the power of Leviathan, back in the Dark Ocean when he was still just a misguided Dagomon striving for more power. One who thirsted for things he didn't have, things that others did. He would've killed anyone back then to have Kari, and he envied anyone who had her – Daisuke, Takeru, Taichi and even Gatomon – Miyako and Sora and Mimi – Yamato – but in the end... he'd accepted GranDracmon's offer for power, thinking it would fill that void in his heart.

Instead, it only made everything more hollow inside.

Leviamon also knew that no matter what he answered, GranDracmon already knew the truth. Leviamon began his descent searching for Hikari, envying only the light surrounding her even in the shadows of the Dark Ocean, a light that never seemed to touch him. As Leviamon came to the end of his descent, he quickly realized, somewhere down the line, instead of searching for Hikari's light, he'd begun searching for Hikari herself, the Hikari beyond the light, the Hikari who even had a bit of darkness inside her, as well. He was searching for Hikari the _human_, because, maybe, there was a part of himself that knew he could love as any other digimon or human could.

Unfortunately, Hikari was a human, a human who was disgusted by him no less. Though they'd made some sort of peace when GranDracmon brought Hikari to him a second time, he knew she was still iffy on whether or not she could trust him.

_After GranDracmon's _**third**_ kidnapping, she'll never trust me again,_ Leviamon innerly huffed.

Leviamon also knew that if he answered yes, he would give in to GranDracmon's satisfaction more than he wanted to admit. However, if he answered no, he would be lying – and GranDracmon always knew a lie. The digimon of hatred and darkness could not only read minds, but he could read emotions, abilities, like an open book.

No matter how hard Leviamon's pelt was, no amount of crocodile scales made of red chrome digizoid would be able to hide his empathy from GranDracmon.

"An omission of silence, oh?" GranDracmon said with the quirk of an amused grin. Leviamon's brow furrowed. "You could end up happily ever after with her, you know."

"Don't you think it's too late for bribery?" Leviamon growled from the bottom of his chest. Something red felt like curling up in his stomach's pit, churning violently as GranDracmon's words filtered through the cosmos. GranDracmon's only response was a further quirk of his dimples, boring metaphorical holes into Leviamon's thick skull. The reptile digimon grunted. "You have already granted me the Leviathan Evolution. Granted, I would have digivolved into this eventually, you merely sped up the process, did you not? Regardless, it still stands. With all my power and all my influence throughout the universes, I have not gained what or who I have been searching for throughout the many millennia I've lived. The millennia throughout time, throughout parallel times... and now, I do doubt with all my heart – what small Grinch-sized heart I may have – that you can offer me anything Hikari would take. And even so, I am done trying to take her. If she wishes to, she will come willingly, and if she ever does, I will welcome her then."

"She doesn't come willingly because you two are divided by species," GranDracmon soothed. Leviamon felt his muscles tense. He readied himself to attack GranDracmon, however, his attack never left his lips. Instead, he found himself – _intrigued_. He doubted he'd accept GranDracmon's precarious offer, but it was awfully precious. GranDracmon scoffed. He then spoke in a voice fused with another – this voice more feminine, deeper, speaking in unison with the masculine words. "Oh, don't be so quick to deny me. I can make you normal, you know... after all, it was by my cleverness that Belphemon was made from human to digimon.

"Yes...

"Leviamon...

"I could make you human...

"A human boy... a tanned, muscled redhead...

"If the greatest power does not satisfy you, cannot get you the one thing you have always coveted, then surely, losing that power and gaining that one thing would sate you...

"Would you like it, Leviamon...?

"Would you like to become human flesh. . . and walk among the weak bipedal scum of the universe?"

**.+.**

_No snow, no snow..._

_The sky is clear?_

**.+.**

To be a human, to live on Earth... Leviamon had always thought that if he wanted something, he had to take it. If he could not take it, then he would strengthen himself until he _could_ take it, until he was _strong_ enough to take it. For the longest time, Hikari was no different. She was just as much of a Thing as anything else.

If he was human, though he would not rely on physical strength to obtain her, he could rely on humanity – _his_ humanity – to charm her, as he could not by Leviamon's fierce face. But there was still no assurance that Hikari would love him, would be able to give him her true friendship, even as a human. And aside from that, how could Leviamon ever live without his powers?

He'd lived thousands of years as a digimon.

Living as a human seemed a poor downgrade, something that could kill him, or at least his soul.

But in his mind's eye, he could see her. She was smiling softly at him, strands of her autumn hair entangling with the frivolous winds. As he watched her, he could only find himself smiling back, his fingers – human and newborn and frail – outstretched to cup her face, as he could not touch her before. As he clasped the cusp of her cheekbone, she leaned into his palm, and her eyes slowly closed.

Leviamon wanted that moment. He hungered for it, since Death separated him from his family as a young digimon. He watched their data flutter to the sky, dancing between his fingertips. Each fleck of gold and blue faded above him into nothingness, once to be reborn at Primary Village, and the second time they died they fluttered into the lonely blackness of an unending abyss. He'd watched his loved ones disappear. He couldn't bear it if he'd gained another loved one through Hikari, only to lose her again through his own selfish demands.

If he accepted GranDracmon's proposal, would he use Leviamon's desires for revenge? After all, Leviamon had at once been the crème de la crème of GranDracmon's most influential pawns. When Leviamon left to join the Seven Great Demon Lords, GranDracmon would have ease in preying on Leviamon's desires. Could turn him human, powerless, and force him to watch Hikari's death as GranDracmon claimed revenge.

Either way, GranDracmon won. He could claim vengeance, or he could at least get Leviamon out of his hair by sapping his powers. But couldn't he do that anyway? Somehow, someway? Why did GranDracmon desire this, when he could end Leviamon now? They were alone, none of the other Demon Lords knew their location. It was the perfect time for GranDracmon to act and break the bond between the Demon Lords. As seven, they were fierce. At six, they were still feared, but their numbers were dwindled, and they would soon realize it was only a matter of time before they were at five, then four, then three, then two, and, before long, one, and nothing.

In his mind, he saw Hikari's eyes open and stare back. She smiled softly, melancholy flickering across the pupil of her eye, before she slowly nodded.

"I can't," Leviamon said. His voice broke, though not because of tears or anger. He wasn't sad, and he certainly wasn't angry. He wasn't exactly sure what he felt, all he knew was that his allegiance to the Seven Great Demon Lords was more important right then and there than his own personal desires. Smiling sadly at Hikari's fading image, he turned back to GranDracmon and shook his head.

"Right now, my friendship is needed, both by the Demon Lords, and by Hikari herself.

"I can't think about what _I_ want anymore...

"I have to look at the big picture...

"And ultimately...

"Maybe, someday, by my own merits, I will be able to gain friendship without relying on you or power. For now, I'm alone. But I won't be forever. I have already gained confidants and powerful allies in the six other digimon whose lives you ruined, and I will _not_ let you ruin them any more than you already have.

"Now tell me.

"Where. Is. Hikari."

Ultimately, Leviamon knew it would come to this. He knew that alone he could never truly stand up against the ominous power of GranDracmon. As the first of the Demon Lords to realize that any of them could change no matter how deeply entranced with darkness they were, he'd long considered the part he'd play in this war. He contemplated his end first, he knew he was the weakest link of the Demon Lords. Though physically he'd claimed number one even above Lucemon, in his heart and in his soul, he had always been the most cowardly, running away from friendships and running away from his past.

_I'm sorry..._ Leviamon knew that GranDracmon was stronger than him, and GranDracmon would never put up with his defiance. Leviamon would _fight_ to know Hikari's location, even if it meant dying to do so. _I'm sorry I have to die like this... I don't want to let fear rule my life anymore. My fears allowed Hikari to get into this situation in the first place – and I— I won't let it be for nothing!_

But, at the same time, he was happy that he would be the first Demon Lord to die, and to die doing what he believed was the right thing. He was ready for it. He wasn't going to run away anymore.

It only made sense that moment he decided to stand up for what he believed in – first by allowing Hikari to return home, then by defying GranDracmon when it was just the two of them – it would be his last moments alive. He only wished he could tell Hikari goodbye one last time, and apologize to Gennai for all the trouble he'd caused in their long sorrowful past.

"I am sorry to hear that," GranDracmon said. "You could have been very happy, Leviamon. I've always favored you above the other Demon Lords, it's... disappointing— that it has to end this way."

"Disappointing?" Leviamon grinned, his eyes glazed with amusement. "I'm not disappointed. I'm proud."

"Proud that your defiance has destroyed Hikari?" GranDracmon tilted his head to the side. Leviamon's eyes instantly widened. He hadn't considered that – yes, hadn't GranDracmon mentioned that earlier? That Leviamon was the only one who _truly_ needed Hikari. Of course, Lilithmon had always needed her, as well, because Hikari was the one _she'd_ always been searching for her whole entire life, just like Leviamon. However, Lilithmon also had others she could rely on, others who believed in her and loved her as much as she believed in and loved them. Others that GranDracmon could use as hostages. Leviamon only had Hikari. And GranDracmon could _end_ Hikari and use someone _else_ to harm Lilithmon with. "Your defiance... well, I knew I couldn't depend on you, I never needed her. But I couldn't very well have her return to the other Destined and spread rumors of the Demon Lords goin' soft, not before I turn you seven more insane than you already are."

_**CRACK**_

Leviamon let out a high-pitched _roar_ and _hurled_ himself forward. Immediately, his size shot through the space between them and his gargantuan twin-tail-sickles decapitated several moons while his claws sunk into the nearest sun. His jaws clamped down on several worlds without his notice, eyes bulging and searching deep inside GranDracmon's gaze until the ant was merely a speck at the bottom of Leviamon's sight.

The worlds moving around Leviamon in a serpentine grasp, Leviamon let out a ravenous howl and opened his maw to consume GranDracmon whole.

"YOU WILL NOT TOUCH HIKARI."

It was only GranDracmon's next words, echoing in the midst of Leviamon's mind, that caused the harrowing giant to pause midair and hackle. The beast laughed horrendously and prodded, _**She's dead, Leviamon.**_

Everything within Leviamon pin-cushioned.

Dead.

His insides twisted, dully aching, curdling with the realization that GranDracmon wasn't lying.

_Dead._

He wouldn't lie.

_**Dead**_.

Almost on cue, GranDracmon let out a potent stench from his body, knowing fully well that it would drift into Leviamon's senses (so weird, a scent in space – not possible, so surreal, but it was happening! Leviamon could _smell_ in the canvas of the outerworld).

_**DEAD.**_

It was Hikari's aroma, entwined with the putrid odor of Gray Death and Reapermon's scythe.

_**DEAD**__**!**_

_...Long _dead_._

Leviamon's eyes widened, his pupils shrinking. The scent was so old! It was almost as if GranDracmon _hadn't_ kidnapped Hikari after Leviamon's released her, but _killed_ her, _absorbed_ her. Inside his belly, Hikari's soul was screaming, and Leviamon was swiftly realizing that all GranDracmon was doing was _playing_. He'd known all along! He just wanted to test Leviamon's disobedience, his insolence, and feed into Leviamon's raging anger and crippling horror. GranDracmon's greatest goal in life was ripping the Seven Demon Lords apart, creating seven monsters who wore nothing but their sin on their sleeve.

He's accomplished this task with flying colors in regards to Leviamon.

The brute _thundered_ with anger, his eyes wet and stinging with warm fluid. He cried out something undecipherable, jaws clamping down on nothing but stars and planets and moons. He took his anger out on the universe, ripping worlds into smithereens, stars into debris, comets into tatters.

"ROSTRUM!" Leviamon howled into the far reaches of space, booming toward GranDracmon's cackling figure.

_She's not dead!_ he cried, maw snapping and devouring the barking GranDracmon whole. He could feel his teeth rattle with the vibrato of his bellows, the fraction of his arms colliding against his fangs; GranDracmon's skin felt like metal against Leviamon's rough tongue. _I refuse to believe he's absorbed her!_

He absorbed the power of Millenniumon to gain the power of time-travel...

He absorbed the power of one other, one from the Digital World's ancient times, who would bestow onto him cleverness and eternal life...

Why would he not absorb the light...?

Precious, bursting light...?

**Clank**

Leviamon's eyes widened as he felt GranDracmon shift in his mouth. The Demon Lord was quick to shift his tongue, pressing the tiny body against his teeth in an attempt to crush him into mincemeat deli. However, he never tasted the blood. The next thing Leviamon felt was a knuckle buckle into his tooth, thundering with an almighty, ungodly _**CRRRRACK**_

Soreness ebbed to the tip of his tooth and exploding throughout his jaw, the muffled call of attacks throttling from the devil's lips as GranDracmon grabbed him by the roof of his mouth and crammed the bulge of his palm into the soft spot above. Blood buckled in inky clumps from Leviamon's mouth and his tongue rushed forward to swallow GranDracmon whole before he could escape (_I'll dissolve him,_ Leviamon thought with a scream, _I will swallow him and he will MELT in the acid of my BELLY_).

Another muffled cry of attacks echoed within Leviamon's mouth. He readied a beam of energy at the back of his throat, ready to burn GranDracmon into a crisp. However, in that last second, the curdle of melted blood and the malt of skin peeling from gum threw Leviamon into a throe of pain that crackled and shot through his snout.

GranDracmon—he was—_opening_ Leviamon's jaws.

Barreling out from between two clamped fangs.

_Laughing_.

"You forget," GranDracmon cooed, palm surging volts of lightning and black swirling energy into Leviamon's lower jaw. Leviamon howled, rageful, and plunged his twin tails forward to obliterate GranDracmon whole.

_YOU WON'T GET AWAY WITH IT._

Tails lanced through moons and five stars within seconds, trickling at lightspeed toward GranDracmon's smaller form; how could something so small contain so much power?

_I WON'T LET YOU HURT ANYONE ELSE._

"You forget," GranDracmon repeated, his voice lowering to a barely-audible whisper, echoing in the depths of Leviamon's mind. "_You_ will destroy the universes for _me_. Let your envy consume you— there's nothing left for you, no one to miss you. The one companion you could have had; a companion to soothe envy into friendship... she is _dead_, and _you_ are next when the four horsemen come to take your place."

And, as Leviamon's tails grazed GranDracmon's cheek, he reached up a hand and _clutched_ the tip of each tail (tips that were twice the size of GranDracmon's petulant size). Leviamon was quiet, allowing the subtle anger to bubble up inside of him silently as he awaited GranDracmon's next move. He felt paralyzed; paralyzed with chaos and melancholy and every ripple of life and death and lacking and indulgence he had ever faced. GranDracmon's fingers clenched tightly around the tips, squeezed them until Leviamon gave a low growl, and grinned.

"Adios," GranDracmon tittered. Though Leviamon could not hear his voice, the words still resounded like bullet shots across his cerebellum, holding onto him like a mother holds her newborn. _Was_ that what the Demon Lords were to GranDracmon...? His children? No. Never. Leviamon _refused_ to consider GranDracmon his father, because he was nothing but a manipulative bastard. "See ya' next time... _Leviathan_."

And, his arm morphing into the slick silver glimmer of blades, GranDracmon laughed and tore his arm down, _slicing_ the tips of Leviamon's tail off. Blood spluttered from the wounds, levitating endlessly in space, as Leviamon reeled his head back in an agonized howl. He planted his paw on the tails to pressure the wound, then growled and turned back to where GranDracmon had stood—

And, surely enough, he'd vanished into the thick of space.

But Leviamon expected that.

GranDracmon hadn't come here to make a deal with Leviamon. He'd come to get Leviamon's hopes up only to destroy them, setting him deeper down the path GranDracmon intended for him. Leviamon might not have been the most clever or sly or intelligent of the Demon Lords, but he had his own kind of smarts – for thousands of years, Leviamon built the foundation of dark intentions and cruelty in his underwater sleep. He, just as the other Demon Lords, was a bloodthirsty scumbastard whenever given the chance; now that Hikari was no longer alive to stop him, to soothe him, to give him a goal toward the light, he could finally fall into the darkest pits of his inner-world.

Leviamon would focus all the dark energy on destroying the asshole who made his life – and the lives of the Demon Lords, and the very lives of the ones who impacted the Demon Lords – into a living hell. Even if he would lose himself in the end, perhaps he could avenge love lost.

_But..._ a voice gently called to him in the back of his mind as hot red wrath blanketed Leviamon's envy. The voice was soft, gentle, sounding almost like Hikari herself. _Remember, Leviamon._

_Her soul remains..._

_Somewhere inside GranDracmon..._

_All you need to do..._

_Is release her._


	15. Session Twelve: Gluttony

_**THE DEMON CHRONICLES**_

**Disclaimer:** I am absolutely not making profit off of this fanfic—any infringement is not intended and never will be.  
**Rating:** PG-13 / T  
**Genre/s:** Adventure, Action, Drama, Romance, Tragedy, Horror  
**Currently Listening To:** "Undenied" by Portishead  
**Description:** Beelzemon just wants to forget.

_**The Demon Chronicles  
**_**Session 12  
.****Gluttony****.**

_**Splllsssshhhh**_

He was covered in gore.

His teeth were bloodstained.

His claws were bathed in red.

He was

_Beelzemon...?_

He was in a half-stupor between dramatically drunk and deliriously depressed, one arm pressed against the armpit of an Ogremon as the other began to tear the screaming Ogremon's appendage from its socket. Beelzemon lowly chuckled at the green digimon's cries, globs of red slathered around his lips. He'd taken a few bites out of Ogremon's side, ripping at his ribs, until the Ogremon was paralyzed by pain.

Beelzemon's prey could only moan and shriek. Beelzemon jerked his arm back, yanking Ogremon's arm halfway out its socket. Another agonized scream escaped its lips.

"Awww, this should teach ya to cheat me, ya freakin' fugly ingrate!" Beelzemon shouted in the Ogremon's ear. One more shout of pain, this time from the volume of his voice. Beelzemon chuckled and wavered as he tossed Ogremon into a wall. Everything was getting a bit hazy – he figured it must have been the alcohol. "Baaaaah. Friggin' A. Is that all the meat you're gonna let me have? I'm sooo hungry, Ogremon."

The champion-level digimon cried out in half-defiance half-pain, pinning himself against the wall in an attempt to make himself as small as possible. However, Beelzemon was one hell of a lot smaller than Ogremon in the first place, and even had smaller fangs! Even so, he was a lot stronger, and Ogremon could sense that overriding dark energy pulsating from the mega-level digimon. He hadn't dared truly fight him, though he supposed his fate would be the same either way.

He violently shook his head, fear flashing across his eyes, as Beelzemon threw his head back in roaring, mocking laughter.

"Is that all ya' got, ya' green pus—"

He was interrupted by a low, bubbly gurgle in the bottom of his stomach. Both Beelzemon and Ogremon briefly paused to blink and glance down, semi-awkwardly, before Beelzemon huffed and grunted. Tilting his head uncaringly to the side, Beelzemon wiped the blood off his lips ruggedly with his black leather sleeve, eyes narrowing into slits.

"Yggdrasil... I just... am... _starving_..." Beelzemon's stare deepened. Ogremon backed up further, his spine pressing against the cool, moist surface of the dark cave's wall. Perspiration drizzled from the top, drenching Beelzemon and Ogremon in its chilly grip. Yes, that was how Beelzemon had met his "dear friend" Ogremon, they'd both been traveling in the wild snowstorm outside and happened to try to find shelter in the same cave. The only bad part was that Beelzemon was never the best person to accompany when he was depressed, and even less so when he was both depressed _and_ drunk. What lessened Ogremon's chances was that Beelzemon was also the Great Demon Lord of Gluttony (although Beelzemon hadn't realized it at the time). "I need more power, Ogremon... it seems I got _all_ this power, you see? I can explode a f_**r**_uck_**l**_ing full floundering UNIVERSE, Goddamit! But you know what I can't stop? Answer me, ya Etemon-wannabe! WHAT AM I POWERLESS ABOUT?!"

"Nothing!" Ogremon shouted in desperation.

_**CRNK**_

Five hand-sized chinks exploded from the wall behind Ogremon as Beelzemon simply flicked his wrist and destroyed them in seconds. Ogremon flinched, grabbing his head, body crippling into shivers and violent tremors that consumed his every waking muscle. Seeing Ogremon crumple into a fetus position in all his disgusting fear, Beelzemon couldn't help but let out a low, seething chuckle.

It was quiet at first.

Then it slowly swelled.

Grew.

Crescendoed into a snarling cacophony of roaring bellows that shook his whole chest and shoulders and _body_. The laughter ignited every flash of drunken mirth inside the demon's eyes, exploding in a swathe of fiery, melancholy joy. Somehow a pool of anger, and sadness, and absolute _bliss_, Beelzemon's laughter soon faded into jagged hiccups, half-sobs that never turned to tears, half-sniffles that never fully made it out of him.

As the noise shortened into decreased bursts of odd emotion, Ogremon peeked up at the Demon Lord, eyes wide, but he didn't move from his spot.

"I can't—" Beelzemon choked, laughed, cried. "I can't stop _death_. All this power. And they're still—still _dead_. Gone."

Ogremon glanced down to the chunk of his own flesh caught between Beelzemon's teeth. Beelzemon could tell that the digimon was trying to decide between using this moment to get away or to maybe try to make peace with his newfound bunkee (after all, if he tried to escape, he was dead either way – the snowstorm outside was enough to give any digimon like them hypothermia). In the end, he decided to stay exactly where he was. Beelzemon was glad for that. He was never fond of people trying to comfort him, he'd always lashed out at Renamon whenever she tried to, which was often, especially after the deaths of Ai and Mako.

It was Juri's death that led him in his drunkenness to that cave.

He knew he shouldn't have attacked Ogremon.

He didn't intend to kill him in the first place. Hell, he hadn't even meant to eat a part of him. It was just Beelzemon's natural instincts, to consume other digimon (or at least their data) in order to get stronger. After the deaths of the Tamers, he didn't know what else to do – he'd lost his purpose in life, now he was only here, alone, in this cave, staring his victim in the eye as he realized everything in his inner-world was fading.

Ai's love...

Mako's laughter...

Juri's smile...

Combine his misery and his feeling of loss with a few too many swigs of tequila and vodka, and he found himself barreling through a snowstorm to catch up with someone he thought looked like Takato, but was only his imagination. He was lost now. He was in pain now. He was a blur now. And Ogremon... Ogremon looked so _good..._ so _delicious_... who would be there to tell him no? Beelzemon just wanted a _taste_.

He was _hungry_. Starved!

And Ogremon would be able to strengthen him just the slightest bit.

"What do ya think, Ogremon?" Beelzemon was back to deeply laughing. His eyes darkened. His body stiffened. His choked laughter came out in scraggly, hacking coughs of amusement. "Maybe if I absorb enough digimon... I can conquer Death... and get them back... Hahah... hahah_ah_. What do ya say, buddy? Badda bing, badda boom... I swallow you... and then it's over! And we'll all walk away happy, except you. Hahah_ah_."

**.+.**

Beelzemon woke up the next day with a screaming headache, covered in blood, pink-hued bones scattered around his frayed body. He bolted upright and immediately began coughing and hacking, realizing just what the hell happened last night.

His eyes bulged.

"I..." He grabbed his mouth, eyes slowly – carefully, tiredly – narrowing. "No. No, no, no. I promised to stop doing this. _I promised them_."

That was when he heard the voice.

**(**_I can make you forget, Beelzemon..._**)**

Beelzemon's gaze shot up, peering at the cave ceiling where he swore he could hear the disembodied voice echo from. His bloodied teeth clenched into a hiss before he ruggedly growled, "Who the hell are you? Get the frick outta' here, I hate voices in my head. They usually mean ya've gone crazy, and I've had a bad enough night without that!"

**(**_My name... is GranDracmon... and I can numb it all..._**)**

Numb it all...?

Maybe there was still some alcohol left in his system or maybe he was just _that_ depressed over the deaths of his friends and the regression into absorbing/eating other digimon, but Beelzemon found himself slightly intrigued. He never relied on other digimon for power, it usually always came with a price – he quickly learned that around seventy years ago as a young, naïve Impmon.

But he was having one hell of a hangover, and seeing as he really had no one left, he was beginning not to care much what happened to him. He just didn't want to _feel_ that pain anymore. The last time something had hurt so much, it was when he realized he was so weak as an Impmon – and then again, when his hunger for power led to Juri's own pain that seeped much further and deeper than Impmon's had before. He'd caused wounds to rip open and bleed until only he and Takato could heal them.

Now all those who meant most to him were dead.

And he could feel it again.

The creeping, crawling hollowness.

The black hole in his chest.

The hunger for more _power_.

This time, power to destroy Death itself, and resurrect those who Death had stolen from him.

"I'm listening," Beelzemon grunted. "But make it snappy. I got _people_ to _do_, _things_ to _see_. Yadda, yadda, yadda..."

The "Voice" had its own variety of interest.

**(**_You're a bloodthirsty demon, Beelzemon... that's why I've chosen you... and if I have to numb you to have you, then that is what I'll do. Are you sure there's no one you care to remember?_**)**

Beelzemon realized it too late that he wanted to remember them all. But in his haste to forget his pain, to forget all the faces who'd perished in the past few years, he agreed. _Anything_ to stop the hurt, to fill the hollows, to hide the holes, to satiate his hunger. Anything that could lead to finding his lost loved ones, though he didn't realize at the time that it was those loved ones he would forget about.

He also realized too late that, most of all, there was one face in particular he always wanted to remember. He thought her eyes – brilliantly blue, leaving a velvet print on any mind who stared in their depths too long – would vacate themselves forever in his memory, regardless of whatever he did or wherever he went. She stuck by him through everything he'd ever done, and was there for him even when he'd fallen into the darkest pits of pain. She'd loved him, despite all his flaws, and he had loved her, despite all her coldness. They considered each other frail in different ways, and strengthened each other in the ways they were weak.

However, her face, along with the faces of Juri, Ai, and Mako, all faded as well, and he was soon sucked into the pit of the Digital World once again in another dimension. Just as before, he was a pawn, who did not remember his past but had to _fight_ to regain any sort of memory.

He should not have agreed to give up the pain.

Because through pain... one grows stronger than they thought they could ever grow.

Even Beelzemon.

**.+.**

It was many years later that Beelzemon would realize who Juri, Ai, Mako, and Renamon were. He wouldn't _remember_ them, but he would _realize_, and it would be Sakuyamon who informed him, and Sakuyamon who he was most grateful for. There was a saying that goes, "Don't sleep with the enemy" – which, unfortunately, Sakuyamon would be, because she was part of a group known as the "Heavenly Ladies". The Heavenly Ladies were an elite crew of powerful digimon under the thumb of the Royal Knights, designed to take on and affect each member of the Demon Lords.

Members of the Heavenly Ladies _included_ Sakuyamon, Lilithmon's daughter and Lucemon's old "friend" AngeWomon, Belphemon's ex-partner Babamon, Barbamon's dear crazy Simone Junior, and sometimes Yagami Hikari (when she wasn't busy being, you know, kidnapped by GranDracmon or Leviamon – or when she wasn't dead, depending on the universe). The Royal Knights tried to find a feminine connection to Demon, but when they considered how he looked behind the hood and how coldly he treated everyone around him (Beelzemon innerly snickered), they didn't find it surprising when there wasn't one.

The Heavenly Ladies had the goal of infiltrating and trying to either eliminate or convert the Demon Lords. However, despite their influence, none of the Demon Lords were willing to stop their goal of finding and destroying GranDracmon. The Royal Knights and Heavenly Ladies desired to destroy GranDracmon, as well, though they were not yet aware of just how much of a gravitational pull the vampire king had on the world, especially with those who had more than the usual amount of darkness in their hearts.

They were the easiest to manipulate.

However, Beelzemon just couldn't help but to "sleep with the enemy". It wasn't like Sakuyamon possessed the strength to kill him, and he got weak in the knees like a pathetic schoolboy every single time he saw her. The likelihood of them truly turning on each other was zilch.

So, as he lied beside her in their private suite, he watched her sleep silently. Her helmet was thrown across the room, boots and leather clothing and golden armor splayed in random spots like the bed corner or draped over a lampshade. They'd been like this for hours now, not moving from their spots, threatening to kill the other if they even _tried_ to put one article of clothing back on.

His gaze flickered from the rose of her cheeks to the curve of her bare hip, where his hand rested. Her skin was warm to the touch. He placed his hand and gently raked it toward her midsection, the sleeping Sakuyamon groaned and groggily stretched. She blinked her big beautiful blue-iris black-sclera eyes at him. She smiled.

He somehow smiled back.

Then he remembered another saying. "Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer". Well, that certainly fit, and he liked it, too. He just couldn't get enough of it; her smell, her taste, her voice or body or snarky personality. He liked it when she was close, especially _really_ close. He somehow felt safer with her there. He was doubly sure it was the same for her, like they could accomplish anything if they worked together. Even so, they didn't dare show each other off to the opposite team.

"I should report back to headquarters," Sakuyamon mumbled, sitting up from the bed. She reached for a nearby boot, but instead Beelzemon clasped her wrist and swung her back onto the bed. She lightly chuckled and arched an eyebrow. "We have work to do."

"Work can wait another round."

"_Again?_"

"I've been waiting centuries for this, toots," he whispered in her ear. She lightly grinned and, while stiffening as she considered, she then loosened herself and allowed him to hold her tighter. Resting his chin against the top of her head, he mused the thought of how this all began.

He had no idea why the hell he'd accepted GranDracmon's request to forget his past, or even _if_ he'd consented. He had no idea of the pain he'd felt when he agreed to feel numb. He didn't really want to know why. All he knew was that he wanted to remember those who meant the most to him, and he wanted to remember Sakuyamon before that fateful day in the woods.

Blood still stained his hands.

He had a lot to atone for.

But for now, that would have to wait.


End file.
